Years of Innocence
by littlegemini1993
Summary: Christina Winchester was a strange, yet innocent child, once apon a time. Raised in a dark and deadly world, at war between good and evil; humans against monsters, all whilst having no knowledge about it. Innocence is a precious thing, and so easily destroyed or lost. In the minds and eyes of her brothers; Sam and Dean; eight years wasn't enough. Pre-series to original O/C triology
1. Christina these are you're Brothers

_**I had the urge to explore Chris Winchester's childhood before she became the spunky and fearless character she is now. Mostly follows her up from infancy to eight years old , when she fatefully discovered her Dad's journal and asked "Do monsters exist?"**_

_**I do not own Supernatural or its characters apart from Chris.**_

"Christina, these are you're Brothers"

Mary Winchester sat in an armchair in a small corner of the nursery cradling her newborn daughter in her arms. The baby was like a tiny doll, she was dainty and she had piercing green eyes with a delicate tuft of brown hair on her head. Her little face was peaceful as she nestled within a soft yellow blanket. The baby's face wrinkled as Mary planted a gentle kiss on her small forehead.

"You're so beautiful," cooed Mary stroking her daughter's elegant face, "You're my little angel."

"Mary," came a voice. Mary looked up to see her husband John peeking round the door, "The boys want to come in now."

Mary nodded and smiled as her two sons scurried in. Her youngest boy was Sam. He was seven years old and had recently lost another tooth in the front, Mary had always tried in vain to tame his wave of dark brown hair. A wash of excitement and nerves was plastered over his face and he cautiously wandered over to his mother and new baby sister, closely followed by the eldest of the children. At eleven years old Dean was passing the kid stage and was fearless of anything. His once blonde hair was darkening with age and he had the same green eyes as the baby. He was unsettled at the fact he was getting another sibling to begin with but he soon returned to his normal self. He would defeat and protect the baby for as long as he lived. Like Sam, it was his duty to his parents.

The boys gazed in awe at their new sister and were almost dumbfounded.

"Christina, these are you're brothers," introduced Mary titling baby Christina so her brother's could see her face.

"Hiya Chrissie," said Sam giving his sister a peck on her pink cheek "I'm you're big brother Sammy."

Mary grinned and gazed at her eldest child who was standing in silence.

"Want to hold her?" she asked to which he went forward with an earnest look in his eyes.

Mary got up from the chair and allowed her son to sit down. She then placed the baby carefully in his skinny arms. Baby Christina wriggled under the blanket and she yawned sleepily as Dean stared at his baby sister. He gave her a small kiss too.

"I'm your big brother Dean," he whispered as the newborn grabbed a hold of his index finger, "I will always be there for you. Always."

Mary knew her daughter would be well protected with her brothers around. With tears in her eyes she knew her family was complete. Life was beautiful.

_**Sorry if this is short but more is on the way, believe me. Thanks and don't forget to review.**_


	2. Two Boys and a Baby

Two Boys and a Baby

Six months had past and Baby Christina's life had now changed forever. John cradled his daughter in his arms as he gazed up at the burning house. Mary was gone. Murdered by a demon who was searching for his youngest son Sam. The upper floor of the house was ablaze and the fire crew were busy extinguishing the flames as best they could. By his side were his two sons who gazed up at their home with sorrow in their eyes. Sam hung onto John's side and tearfully sucked his thumb. Dean could barely watch as his house burned. The cries of a baby girl echoed throughout the night.

Three months later

Sam perched himself on the edge of the bed and wrinkled his nose. This motel room smelt funny. The Winchesters had been moving around the country for several months now and Sam still wasn't use to living in motels. He glanced over at Christina who was holding herself up in her playpen-which was provided by the motel staff-and babbling away to herself. She giggled at her brother. Her hair was now a small mane of dark waves and she was now crawling on all fours. Sam smiled back at her and pulled a face which made her laugh more.

"You're face will stay like that if the wind changes" warned Dean as he came out the bathroom, there was a playful smirk on his face.

Sam looked worried and gave a nervous laugh.

"I'm kiddin'" chuckled Dean heading over to Christina who held her hands out to her big brother.

"I knew that" protested Sam innocently.

"Sure you did" replied Dean lifting Christina out of the playpen, he sniffed.

"Uh oh" he said looking at Christina, "Somebody needs a diaper change."

Christina babbled and gurgled as she was placed on her back on the bed wear Sam was sitting. Sam slid off and grabbed the bag that contained diapers and various bottles and pacifiers. He handed Dean a clean diaper and rash cream and wipes. The boys gasped and gagged in horror when the content of the diaper was revealed.

"Eww" shrieked Sam turning his head away sharply whilst holding his nose.

Once Dean had completed the tricky and messy job of switching diapers he tossed the soiled one at Sam.

"You want it" he laughed to which Sam glowered at him.

"You're a meanie" pouted Sam picking the diaper up and placing it in the waste bin "It hit me."

"Calm down Francis" taunted Dean applying the rash cream on Christina.

"Shut up!" said Sam who was going into a sulk and sat on the chair near the refrigerator.

"There we go Chrissie" said Dean putting his little sister onto the floor.

Christina gazed over at Sam and crawled over to him with wide eyes and sat at his feet and looking up at him with a tilted head. She looked like an curious boxer puppy from Sam's angle. Whenever she did this people would coo at her. Sam couldn't stop himself from smiling. She then steadily got to her feet and managed to maintain her balance by hugging the chair leg.

"Chrissie doesn't like you being moody Sammy" chuckled Dean from the other side of the room.

Christina plopped down and crawled over to the refrigerator and started to smack it with her podgy hands. She whined until Dean produce a carton of juice to which he poured it into a sippy cup.

"You want some too Sammy?" he asked his little brother.

"Please" replied Sam as Dean handed him a glass of orange juice "Thank you."

"You welcome" said Dean sitting up on the countertop.

"Is Daddy at Uncle Bobby's again?" asked Sam wiping his mouth after taking a gulp.

Dean nodded "Yup."

Sam frowned "Why?"

Dean's head fell "I dunno Sammy. Quit askin"

Sam downed the remaining juice and said "When will he be back?"

Dean hopped down and glanced at the door with a hint of doubt "Soon. Soon."

John couldn't be away all night again. He couldn't just neglect his children and leave them alone in a motel. Dean didn't want to be a babysitter all the time. He needed his father too. He was still a kid himself. He couldn't stand Sam's constant bombardment of questions. He couldn't stand the thought of his baby sister being neglected by the only parent she had left. That was his worst fear.

_**Thanks for reading. Review if you can.**_


	3. The Sour Lemon

_**Hey Folks! I wrote this and another story within the space of three free periods at school this morning. I find this one cute and funny. Enjoy.**_

The Sour Lemon

The Impala rolled into the parking lot of the small road side diner. It was like an old fashioned 1950s style diner and it had seen better days.

Sam was curious "Where are we Dad?"

John turned off the engine "Ohio."

He looked in the rear view mirror to check on the youngest of his children. Christina was now 10 months old and was now walking. She had just woken from her nap and was blinking brightly at her father.

John smiled at her and turned to the eldest in the front seat "Get your sister outta her car seat Dean."

The boy jumped out the passenger seat and went around the other side of the car. Sam had already unclipped her from the car seat and was now at his older brother's side as baby Christina was lifted out of the car.

The family entered the diner and found themselves a booth near the rest rooms. Christina frowned as she was lowered into a highchair, she thumped her tiny palms on the plastic tray in outrage. If there was one thing she hated along side greens, it was high chairs.

"What are you boys having?" asked the young waitress who had blonde hair scraped back into a ponytail.

"Can I get the club sandwich please," said Sam politely with the menu in his hands, "And a chocolate milkshake too."

"Sure" she smiled as she jotted down the first order.

Both Dean and John ordered the cheeseburger and fries. The waitress then looked down at Christina.

"I can get eggs for the little un" said the waitress to which John nodded.

Christina babbled and began to chew on her plastic spoon as it soothed her teething pains. Drool dribbled down her rounded chin as she drummed the spoon excitedly as a tiny platter of eggs was placed in front of her. Spoonfuls of egg were nearly catapulted in the direction of Dean but Christina merely giggled innocently at her elder brother, who gave her a small glare in annoyance.

"Christina behave" warned John, softly but firm.

Christina glanced at her father and sulked. She obediently finished her eggs and the watched her family eat theirs. She nibbled several of Dean's fries but spat out the lettuce leaf that Sam gave her. Her attention was then turned to something else, the wedge of lemon stuck on the rim of her father's glass of soda.

She stared at it in wide eyed curiosity. Sam giggled at his little sister.

"Dad, Chrissie wants the lemon" he said.

John chuckled and handed her the lemon wedge. The child held it in her small hands, a look of awe on her face. That look turned into a grimace of horror once she shoved it into her mouth. The sharp sour taste shocked her and she dropped it onto the floor without hesitation. She looked down and shot little daggers at the sour lemon that was now discarded on the tiled floor. She now had another enemy. Lemons.


	4. A New Face and a Milestone

_**Hiya Guys! I was brain storming during my free periods today at school and I have came up with several plans. Hopefully I get to publish them all by the end of the weekend as I have my Youth Theatre's show next week and a History essay on my ass. Phew life is fun! Anyways I'm rambling on. Enjoy!**_

_**Chris - 1**_

_**Sam - 9**_

_**Dean - 13**_

**Chris meets Bobby Singer for the first time.**

Christina, who was now dubbed Chrissie, was a year old. John was somewhat glad that his daughter bearded no resemblance to his murdered wife. Her eyes were large green orbs and her hair was a soft mop of brown waves and she had a heart warming smile and a lovable giggle that would make even the toughest biker dude coo at her. Yet as advanced as she was mentally, the child wasn't walking yet. She could shuffle and scooted about on her rear end and all fours no bother. She could even pull her self up to stand yet she had never put one foot in front of the other. It was only a matter of time. Her older brothers prayed that their father would witness the precious moment, but they knew not to pray too hard.

The family was visiting Robert Singer, or Uncle Bobby according to the kids, one weekend. John had been researching a murderous spirit for over a week and he was ready to destroy it. The kids couldn't come along for obvious reasons and it was up to Bobby to baby sit. The boys had met Bobby before had they regarded him as a second father. However their was one member of the family who had never seen the family friend.

"So this is Chrissie huh?," asked Bobby gazing at the little girl in John's arms, "She sure does take after the boys don't she."

"Yeah she does" said John looking at his daughter who smiled at him.

"Papa" she gurgled then she pointed at Bobby with a puzzled expression.

"That's Uncle Bobby," said John, "Say hi."

"Hi" replied Chrissie brightly holding her hands out to the man with the

greying beard and a baseball cap.

Bobby was surprised at the child's open friendlessness. Don't kids normally shy away at strangers at first meetings he thought. But he knew just by looking at the child that she was in for a bumpy ride in life. For something so small and young, life had been cruel to her already, that wasn't fair in Bobby's eyes. Bobby soon realised he was holding the infant in his arms. Like her father and brothers, Bobby was now vowed to protect her from danger and harm.

John left about two hours later and Bobby was surprised that his departure had not distressed the child in any way. She simply sat on Sam's lap and watched Sesame Street and she giggled playful as Elmo made an appearance whilst nibbling on potato chips that she kept stealing from Sam. Dean laughed when Sam realised the once full bag was suddenly empty. Chrissie gazed up at Sam with adorable puppy dog eyes.

"Soree Hammy" she pouted with crumbs and salt flakes scarring her podgy cheeks.

Sam just smiled and kissed the top of his baby sister's head and shook his head. It happened all the time and he didn't mind at all. Several minutes later she was asleep.

Her afternoon nap lasted about half an hour and she woke with a whimper. Dean knew what that signalled. Diaper change. Bobby was amazed on how the boys co-operated with the task, it was like a swift military action and Chrissie had a new, fresh diaper within less of a minute. She was the plonked down onto the floor and she then shuffled along the floor on her rear end, she ventured around the coffee table again and again until she almost wore away the denim of her dungarees due to friction. She stopped suddenly and gazed up at her elders with a grin. She only had several teeth and the rest was just gum. Teething caused her obvious pain yet she never complained much.

"Alright boys food's up!," declared Bobby planting a large bowl of macaroni and cheese onto the half cluttered dining table, "Come and get it."

The boys charged at the table and battled for the first serving before Bobby gave them a small swift scold.

"What are ya animals?," he said, he then noticed baby Chrissie staring up at him, clinging to his leg for support, "Don't take after yer brothers little un."

Chrissie shook her head "No."

Bobby chuckled and placed Chrissie in his make shift highchair. Chrissie was smart. She knew it was a highchair even though it didn't look like one. Her face lit up when she noticed food. Bobby attempted the airplane technique but Chrissie turned her head away stubbornly.

"She hates that" pointed out Dean, his mouth full of macaroni and cheese.

"Dude eat with your mouth closed," said Sam in disgust, "It's gross."

Dean stuck out his tongue which was caked in pasta curls and dripping and half digested cheese. Sam whined and Dean laughed.

Chrissie shook her head again and Bobby stated "Boys will be boys."

He chuckled when the infant nodded in agreement. She then took the spoon from

Bobby and began to cram the cheesy pasta into her little mouth. Sam was watching and kicked Dean under the table.

"Ow!," protested Dean rubbing his shin bone, "The hell was that for?"

"You're a bad influence" said Sam indicating his baby sister who was clearly copying the eldest sibling.

Bobby rolled his eyes. Kids he thought. Chrissie was none the wiser of her bickering siblings and the cautioning they received from Bobby. Melted cheese was soon dripping from her rounded chin. She grinned. She loved Macaroni cheese. It was official.

"Where ye takin Chrissie?" Bobby asked Dean who was holding his baby sister.

"I was gonna show her the cars" replied Dean.

"She's one Dean," said Sam who had lifted his head from his science homework, "Why would she care about cars. She doesn't even know what a car is."

"Shut up" grunted Dean making his way outside into the junkyard.

Chrissie scanned about the junkyard with wide eyes and she pointed in every direction at the rusty sheets of metal strewn about and old bangers for cars. Dean lead her towards an old and decaying Mustang. She tapped it with her small hands and gasped as the metal felt cold and warm at the same time. Dean wanted to check out the old car himself so he put Chrissie down and wandered around the car, admiring it with awe. Meanwhile little Chrissie had pulled her self upright and was amazed at the detail in the deflated tyre and was prodding it with her index finger. She was startled when a tiny amount of air escaped and hissed.

Suddenly she began to toddle at her full speed towards Dean who had reappear from the other end of the car. His mouth dropped and soon spread into a huge grin. Chrissie fell into his arms as her legs buckled.

"Kiddo you walked!" beamed Dean hugging her tightly "You walked!"

He then picked her up and took her back inside in which Sam and Bobby was confused by the excited state he was in.

"Why are ye smiling like the Joker?" asked Bobby putting down a book and walking over to them.

Chrissie then began to bounce in her brother's arms. She wanted down. Dean nodded at Bobby and said to Chrissie as he put her down "Go get Sammy."

Sam gazed over and gasped in surprise and pride as he witnessed his little sister racing towards him on unsteady legs. He grabbed her just before she fell over and smothered her in kisses.

"You did it!," Sam said grinning like the Cheshire Cat, "Dad will be proud."

Dean suddenly looked sad and slightly annoyed "I knew he'd miss this."

Bobby patted his shoulder in reassurance. He knew the boys were disappointed that their father missed a major milestone in his daughter's early life. Chrissie seemed to be the only source of light for them both since the sudden and horrific death of their mother. Bobby knew that too. John was still lost in the dark however. Leaving his children behind.

The rest of the day was spent encouraging Chrissie to walk several distances and seeing if she could make it without wobbling and falling over. Barney the Dinosaur soon took her attention span at one point.

Yet most precious of all was that Bobby had a camera and captured moments that would be forever instilled in time within a photograph.

Later at night when Chrissie was fast asleep, Bobby kept a watchful eye over the sleeping child who was cuddled against Sam with a pacifier in her mouth. Her breathing was slow and gentle and she twitched once or twice.

Bobby smiled and let out a small yet heavy sigh "Yer Daddy doesn't know what he's missing."

_**Thanks Guys. Don't forget to review. I welcome requests too. So if you have any, just ask, I will be more than happy.**_


	5. The Blue Eyed Angel

_I would appreciate more reviews as they help me continue with this work. Requests are welcomed. This story is for Castiel fans. _

_**Chris = 4**_

_**Sam = 12**_

_**Dean =16**_

**A mysterious man appears to Chrissie, to her, he is simply her new best friend.**

Chrissie was bored. Daddy and Dean were out somewhere and Sammy was busy with studying. Sesame Street and Barney had just finished and she had nothing to do. She wasn't in the mood for colouring, partly because she had just broken her last crayon and she had nothing to colour with. Her small green eyes narrowed and a smirk spread across her little face, she knew how to get Sammy's attention.

"Wook Sammy! Wook at me!" declared Chrissie proudly as she plummeted herself up and down on the bed, the springs shrieking under the pressure, skinny limbs flailing madly.

Her twelve year old brother looked up from his Maths textbook and shook his head fondly, his shaggy dark hair almost covering his eyes.

"Nice try Chrissie," he chuckled, "I'm busying just now. We'll play later."

Chrissie stopped bouncing and plonked down onto her rear. She huffed and gave her famous pout. She was never allowed to do anything fun. She scowled as she watched her brother pop outside to the soda machine. It suddenly became chilly, she was confused, Texas wasn't cold in her four year old logic, she scanned about the motel room cautiously as she heard a flutter of what sounded like wings. Her eyes widened as before her stood a man in a tan trench coat. His dark hair was messy and he had the brightest blue eyes, with seemed ancient and holy, filled with knowledge and wisdom.

"Whose you?" said the little girl in awe at the stranger who had just appeared out of nowhere.

"My name is Castiel," announced the man in a horse sounding voice, "I am an angel of the Lord."

The child titled her head in confusion "Angel?"

The angel nodded and with a small and almost silent clap of thunder, his shadowy, raven wings spread from behind, the child gasped and cowered away in fear.

"Do not be afraid little one," the angel assured, "I am not here to cause you harm."

"Youse not" said Chrissie crawling across the bed towards the angel who sat down beside her on the dough like bed.

"No" replied Castiel simply, his eyes focusing on the youngster.

Chrissie's face suddenly broke out into a grin and she leapt from the bed and began tugging at the sleeve of the angel's coat. Castiel was confused and unsure about what he should do next.

"Youse play with me," smiled the little girl, "Youse come to play."

Castiel's eyebrows raised as he was guided to the middle of the small kitchenette.

"Sit" commanded the child to which Castiel obeyed just as Sam returned to find his baby sister with two coffee mugs in her tiny hands.

"Chrissie?," asked Sam curiously as he watched her sit down on the kitchenette floor and slid one of the mugs to the empty space in front of her, "Who are you talking to?"

"Cassie" replied Chrissie.

"Whose Cassie?" questioned her brother crouching down on his haunches beside her, the was clearly no one there, she was talking to herself. Again.

"Der," pointed Chrissie at Castiel who was sitting opposite her, "He der."

Sam shrugged and sighed. Chrissie had a wild imagination and she would talk to anybody. Or anything at that matter. She once claimed that a stray cat said "Hello" to her. He watched her carefully as he continued with his homework. A playful grin on his face as it was amusing to witness.

"Der" said the child pouring an imaginary drink into the mug and sliding it back to the bewildered angel.

"It is empty?" wondered Castiel inspecting it.

"Youse pretend" sighed Chrissie dramatically.

"Oh?" said the angel, "What is it I am supposed to be drinking."

The child took a pretend gulp "Beer."

Castiel put down the mug "I do not drink."

The child paused and scuttled away "Okays. We do somefing else den. Come on."

"_Wing a wing a woses, a pocket full of poses_" sang the child as she danced around Castiel in the middle of the dusty parking lot. Castiel just stood there. He was observing her closely, his face deadpan.

"_A tischoo. A tischoo. We alls fall down_" said Chrissie throwing herself down onto the ground on the last word.

Unknown to her, her Dad and older brother had just pulled up in the car. They watched her. John chuckled and shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand whilst the other still on the steering wheel.

"I'm guessing she's found a new friend" he remarked gazing at his daughter who had continued her crazy dance, adoration in his dark eyes. What would Mary say about Chrissie's strange and odd antics he thought to himself sadly.

"I guess so," replied the sixteen year old Dean with a smile, "The kid is nuts."

Father and son climbed out the car, John carrying a bucket of fried chicken under his arm. Chrissie heard the slamming of the car door and her face lit up as she saw her Daddy and brother coming towards her.

She flung herself into John's arms and buried her head into his chest, he smelt slightly funny but she didn't care, she had missed him even though he had only been away for two hours and it was dusk now. Her brother got an equally warm welcome back hug from her and she then turned to Castiel whose eyes had fell on the adults. They could not see him though.

"Dis is Cassie," introduced the four year old, "He's a angel."

"Baby," said John softly levelling himself to his daughter, "There's no one there."

"But he right der," insisted Chrissie pointing over at Castiel, she gave him a small wave and giggled, she sniffed and noticed the fried chicken, "Dat chicken in der Papa?," asked Chrissie peeking inside the bucket, "Oooh it is!"

Her head whipped round to Castiel again "You want chicken Cassie? I share with you."

Castiel cleared his throat and shook his head "I'm afraid I refrain from eating. A job protocol you see."

Chrissie wrinkled her nose and blinked "Kay."

She then skipped over and took him by the hand, to which he flinched slightly, put he let the little girl led him back into the stuffy motel room.

Sam had completed his homework and had cleared the small kitchenette table of his books. The bucket of chicken was dumped onto the table and the boys began to devour the content.

"Weave some for me!" said Chrissie fishing out a crispy and herb scented chicken fillet and gnawing at it like a mini carnivorous dinosaur.

Her skinny legs swinging and dangling as she sat on the chair, her head barely peeking over the table. Sam sat down beside her only to recoil in shock as Chrissie let out a small cry.

"No Sammy!" she yelped "Your big butt smooshed Cassie."

It was true, unknown to Sam, but he did literally sit on Castiel's lap. To be frank, Castiel got more of a fright than Sam. Sam was speechless as he saw nothing but air, he was annoyed at the fact that Dean was laughing at him. Chrissie went to apologise to Castiel when it came to her attention that he had just disappeared. Her face fell and her drooped. The brothers knew that look. It was the expression she used whenever her imaginary friends vanished. Chrissie was ready for bed an hour or two later, she had spent the remaining part of the night, moping around, searching for her angel companion. All the excitement of the day had her worn out by seven thirty.

She wandered up to Sam with puppy dog eyes "Sammy. I sweepy."

Sam put down the TV remote and switched the set off. John had went out with Dean again an hour previous, and Sam was left to baby sit his sister. He lifted her up and perched her on his knee. She gave him a sleepy smile.

"Jammy Jams yes" mumbled the youngster as her brother carried her into the bathroom to changed into her pyjamas.

"Yup Jammy Jams then bed" was the response she got from Sam.

He tugged her into her purple Barney the Dinosaur pyjamas and undid her bumblebee hair pins from her soft wavy hair. The kid needed new clothes he thought as he carried his baby sister back through. He tucked her under the covers and planted a kiss on her forehead. He might as well turn in for the night himself he stated to himself before returning to the bathroom.

Chrissie mumbled and turned over, the covers wrapped around her tightly, a faint smile on her gentle face. She didn't see Castiel watching over her. Little did she know that her blue eyed angel would appear to her again. She would not know the purpose of the visits or her destiny until she was older. Then again, life would be a lot different for the youngest Winchester. A lot different. It was now a matter of waiting.

_**Requests are open. Think of some and send me them and I will do my best. Thanks again and PLEASE, PLEASE review. It would mean the world to me. **_


	6. Not so Sweet Dreams

_**Requests are welcomed so send me your ideas (if you have any in mind that you wish to see that is :D )**_

**All children have nightmares but for Chrissie, her nightmares are anything but normal.**

"I'm not sweepy Dean" moaned the droopy eyed four year old, who was trying to escape from her fifteen year old brother.

Little Chrissie crawled on all fours under the kitchenette table and sat there with an adorable dozy look on her small freckled face. She rubbed her eyes with two balled up fists and yawned. The child was stubborn and was trying in vain to stay awake but it was pasted her bedtime and it was showing. Her head flopped forward which was a clear signal for Dean to take her. He pulled her out from under the table and took her into the bathroom to clean her teeth and to change into her pyjamas.

Chrissie was so tired she could hardly aim the toothbrush correctly and was constantly stabbing her face, making splodge marks on her cheeks. It was colder that night and Dean thought his baby sister would be warmer in her sleeping suit, that was really meant for a little boy but it was all John could grab at short notice. Chrissie didn't care though. Once the last button was fastened on the pyjama suit, Chrissie succumbed to her fatigue and fell into her brother's waiting arms, drifting ever so slightly into a slumber.

"I'm sweepy Dean" mumbled Chrissie wrapping her arms around her brother's neck as he carried her back through.

Dean smirked and let out a chuckle "Thought you said you weren't."

"I am" admitted the little girl, burying her head into Dean's chest.

He smiled and tucked her into bed, wrapping the covers around her tiny and fragile frame. Her wild shaggy mane of hair spread out on the pillow, her fringe hanging over her eyes. For a single moment she reminded Dean of Sam.

"Night Night," murmured Chrissie, her eyes finally closing, "Wove you."

"Good night sweetheart," he whispered, planting a kiss on her head, "Sweet dreams. Angel's are watching over you."

That was something his late mother used to tell him and Sam before she tucked them in at night. He gazed at his little sister with sadness in his eyes. The poor thing would never know the love and affection of a mother. He sighed and rubbed gentle, soothing circles on Chrissie's back in order to lull her to sleep.

The door opened and Sam entered with the cold air evident on his face. He had spent the evening with some friends from school and went to the movies, he was surprised he was even allowed but he was grateful as it was rare.

"How was the movie?" Dean asked getting up and moving to sit on the bed next to Chrissie, "What was it again?"

Sam shivered "Jumanji. It about some weird enchanted board game. Robin Williams was in it."

"Sounds shit if ya ask me. Then again that's the kind of movie you and your little nerd buddies would go see anyway" joked Dean.

"Shut up!" retaliated Sam throwing away his jacket "It was a good movie."

"Come on Sammy, it's like telling Chrissie there that next time we play Boggle some magic crap will happen."

Sam rolled his eyes and slouched onto the couch in front of the TV "Jerk."

Dean smirked and threw the pillow from the bed at Sam "Bitch."

As the boys sniggered they looked at their sleeping sister. She was out like a light. It then came to their attention that something was wrong.

_A woman stood before the little girl. She had a kind and loving face with long blonde hair and blue eyes. She was clothed in a white nightdress. Chrissie thought she recognised her from somewhere. A photograph possibly._

"_Mommy?," asked the child, her hand grazing the material of the gown " Are you my mommy?."_

_The lady nodded and smiled and pulled the child into a warm embrace._

"_Mommy. I have my Mommy" said Chrissie, delicate tears dripping from her bright green eyes._

_Suddenly her mother's lovely hair erupted into a wave of flames. Her nightdress began to singe and her soft skin began to bubble and blister with heat. The infant recoiled in fright as her mother was burning before her._

"_It's your fault!" shrieked her mother as she continued to burn._

"_I'm sworry" said Chrissie who was getting more and more traumatised by the minute, her eyes were swimming with tear and were wide with fear._

_Every thing went dark and Chrissie continued to whimper when a figure zoomed in front of her. A shadowy figure with gleaming yellow eyes. The figure laughed as the child let out a piercing howl of distress. She wanted to wake up now. She had to wake up now._

Chrissie began to wriggle and thrash about under the bed covers. She was sobbing hysterically as she tried to escape from her nightmare. The boys were at her side immediately.

Dean grabbed a hold of her and shook her "Chrissie wake up! Your dreaming"

Her face was scarred with tears and her eyes snapped open and she dived into Dean's arms and clung onto him like a baby Koala Bear. She was trembling and she burst into a fresh flood of tears.

"Was it a nightmare?" questioned Sam looking into her tiny, distraught face.

"Uh huh" gulped Chrissie nodding whilst whipping her nose with the sleeve of her pyjama suit, "It was frightened.

Dean cradled the weeping Chrissie in his arms "Nothin gonna harm you Baby. No while me and Sammy are around. Right Sammy."

Sam nodded and wiped his sister's falling tears "We promise."

_**Please, Please don't forget to review. **_


	7. Chrissie and the Common Cold

_**Thanks for those who have reviewed so far. Keep em coming!**_

**Chrissie is suffering from a heavy cold.**

Having a cold was bad but for little Chris being left behind at Bobby's was worse. The four year old hated being separated from her brothers and it made her miserable. It wasn't that she didn't like Bobby's company, she loved Bobby and she would play in the junkyard out back and would paw through his mountainous collect of books, even though her reading skills weren't advanced enough to understand the context of them. She just liked the scary pictures of weird people and monsters. Bobby even set up a room for her, it overlooked the junkyard and she could see the brook- and the oak tree with the rope swing the boys had made once upon a time-but she was often warned away from the brook by Dean as he feared she would have an accident. The room was small but cosy and it was better than any motel room she had stayed in so far. The papered walls were littered with the little girl's drawings, many of them were of the blue eyed angel and the Impala. Bobby had even moved an old TV set into the room including a video recorder, he also picked up a few videos for the child he thought of as a daughter. Her favourites were _The Land Before Time _and _Jungle Book_ because of the singing and dancing monkeys. She would normally watch it with Sam and the pair would dance and sing along before Dean ruined the moment. Sam would call him Baloo and Dean would end up calling Sam, Bageera (the bossy panther) , leaving Chrissie to be Mowgli. That wasn't the case today. She was too depressed and ill to watch _Jungle Book_. It wasn't the same with the boys.

Chrissie sat on the middle of the large bed with her Dad's leather jacket draped over her small shoulders. Her hair messy and flicked upwards and outwards, her round nose was like a clown's-bright red-and she kept sniffing to try to unblock her congested sinuses. Small dark circles rested under her eyes as her cold kept her awake half the night to which she refused to disturb Bobby from his sleep. The skin under her nose was getting scabby due to over using handkerchiefs which irritated her. The TV set droned in her ears and her eyes focused on the lovable little dinosaurs trying to find a way to some place called "the Great Valley." The infant lay down, wrapping the jacket around her tighter, it smelt of Dad but she couldn't put her finger on what smell it was. It was unknown to her. Her eyes drifted towards the door, she could hear Bobby climbing the stairs and a clatter of a tray. Lunchtime. She little girl let out a small harsh cough before nuzzling back into the folds of leather again. Dad and the boys will be back tomorrow she told herself as Bobby opened the bedroom door. He was holding a tray, on it was a bowl of tomato soup and a hot blackcurrant drink, with a spoonful of honey to ease her throat ache.

The older man smiled at the sick child "Ya hungry little un?"

Chrissie nodded. She hated being ill, it sucked, that much she knew. Even at four.


	8. Not for Children's Eyes

**Chris bares witness to something she does not understand, much to the horror of her brothers. **

It was getting late and Sam was alone to hold the fort. Not like Chrissie gave him any trouble. She would just sit and draw or just mindlessly watch the TV__unless it was cartoons she liked. Sam felt a pang of sadness for his four year old sister. Her childish nature and naivety enable her to ignore the pain and suffering of the world around her. It was a dark and dangerous world but everything is bright and rosy in the minds of a little girl. The time will come when this force field around her would come crashing down and she would be exposed to the cruelness of reality. Her elders could only protect her on what they knew would be a short lived childhood. In the meantime her brothers could only shower her with care and humour and hearing her laugh brought a flicker of light into their sad, gloomy world.

Sam was watching a documentary on the TV with his sister sitting on his lap, happily devouring a candy bar. He came across the program by chance which was good on his behalf because he had a school project on the subject.

"Where's that big fworest about?" asked Chrissie, slurping chocolate.

"It in Brazil. It's called the Amazon. It's called a rainforest" Sam explained, smiling at his sister.

"Does it have monkeys wike Jungle Book?" quizzed the child.

"Yup," he replied and then pointed at the TV, "See."

Chrissie grinned as the narrator began discussing the behaviour of a Capuchin monkey. The four year old was interested, made clear by her soulful eyes.

"Monkey is trying to get the nut" she remarked as the Capuchin monkey continued to smash a nut against the tree bark.

She then cocked her head and laughed "Sammy that monkey wooks like Dean!"

Sam laughed along as he recalled an incident a few days previous when Dean was battling with a stubborn tin of beans. It resulted with him banging it against the table. He didn't win the battle and gave up in a fit of annoyance. He smiled and ran his fingers through his little sister's wavy hair, he did this until the documentary ended about half an hour later.

**Two hours later**

"Sammy! Wets play games!" said the child tugging at her brother's sleeve.

Sam sighed "Alright. What do you wanna play?"

Chrissie paused then smiled "Ghosts!"

Sam winced slightly but the little girl noticed and hugged his leg and looked up at him with her doleful green orbs. She pouted in confusion.

"What's wong Sammy. You no wanna play Ghosts?" she asked.

Sam forced himself to smile "Sure I do kiddo. Let's play ghosts. I'll be the ghost first, okay."

Chrissie giggled as she watched her brother pull the bed sheets over himself until her looked like a ghost.

"Oh no!" squealed the little girl pretending to cower away.

"OOOOOOHHHHH" groaned Sam comically waving his arms under the sheets, he had a goofy grin on his face as he did so.

The four year old then stated with defiance "I ain't scare of no ghost."

She then charged over and nearly tackled Sam onto the bed. Sam didn't see that coming nor did he expect to hear a sudden voice.

"What the hell?"

Sam yanked the covers of himself, his hair fluffy and his face was beetroot red from laughing. He was now embarrassed. Reason being was that Dean was standing in the doorway with an equally embarrassed look. He was not alone though. A girl of the same age was holding onto his arm, she was blonde and wearing a short skirt and clunky boots. Sam then remembered. He was meant to take Chrissie out, because Dean was bringing his new girlfriend home. He had forgot. Now the situation was awkward.

The girlfriend seemed uncomfortable in her surroundings. Mostly because of the infant staring at her. She didn't dispute the fact that the kid was cute but at first she thought it was a little boy before she heard the child speak. Then she noticed two bumblebee clips which summarised it all. She then felt a slight ease when the infant began asking her questions. Never ending questions. While the little girl was chattering to the teenager, the brothers were arguing outside.

"Dude I told you to take Chrissie out!" said Dean outraged.

"I forgot and besides where would I take her?" retaliated Sam irritated.

"I dunno Sam uh the park, the movies. Anywhere" grunted Dean with a pissed off expression.

"What are you doing bringing back a girl anyway?," quizzed Sam, then the penny dropped, he was disgusted, "Aw man you were actually gonna…I mean you were really gonna…here…of all places!"

Dean rolled his eyes at his twelve year old brother. He gave him a playful shove and the pair re-entered the room. Chrissie was appearing to be interrogating the poor girl. The girlfriend was relieved when she was guided out by Dean, leaving Sam and Chrissie alone again.

"Uh," said Sam looking down at Chrissie, he needed a diversion, "Bedtime."

The four year old frowned at him and crossed her skinny arms "But I'm not sweepy."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose "Okay we'll just watch TV then."

The child shrugged and mounted the couch "Kay den."

Sam never realised how tired he was and within a few minutes he drifted of into a daze, he didn't notice Chrissie peeking out the door, on looking the parking lot. The Impala was making a funny rocking movement. She saw a hand slap against the window. Confused, the child ran over to investigate the scene. Later on in her life, she would regret opening the door.

The four year old was bewildered at the sight she saw. Her brother was shirtless and was on top of the girlfriend, his jeans around his ankles. The girl let out a shriek of surprise when she noticed the little girl standing there, holding the door open. Dean looked up and gasped in horror. Shit he thought.

The child wrinkled her nose "What you doing? Why you lying on top of her?"

She then pointed at something odd protruding from her brother's boxer shorts "What dat?"

"Sam!" roared Dean.

Sam dashed outside and clamped a hand over Chrissie's eyes, he then grimaced at a sight that almost burned his eyes out of his skull. He then ushered Chrissie back inside. He hoped she would never remember that moment. Little did he know that she would remember. A sight like that was not for children's eyes. Period.


	9. Chrissie Winchester is Home Alone

_**Please excuse my progress but I've been busy with exams (don't you just love them…eh NAT!) and my last one is next week so I'll be juggling between fan fiction and my revision.**_

_**Stay tuned!**_

**Is John the model father when leaves Chrissie home alone?**

"Chrissie," said John in a low voice as he shook his four year old daughter awake, "Wake up."

The little girl yawned and scrunched her freckled nose. Her eyelids fluttered open, her eyes still blearily as she focused dozily on her father. John smiled and ruffled her fluffy hair.

"Mornin'" he said as the child still gazed at him sleepily, rubbing her eyes. After blinking several times, Chrissie was now fully awake

"Can we get pancakes for breakfast?" she asked hopefully, to which

John sighed and rubbed his chin.

Chrissie then donned her famous puppy dog eyes with matching pout "Please Daddy."

John smirked and nodded to which then little girl let out a whoop and she dived out of bed. The kid was literally like a puppy, she would cause mayhem and leave mess everywhere and would have a wounded expression when scolded.

She waved her small skinny arms in the air "Yay!"

John chuckled "You gonna get dressed then. You can't go to the diner in your pyjamas."

Chrissie nodded "Yes sir."

John asked "Can you do it all yourself like a big girl."

Chrissie nodded again "Yes sir."

John smiled as his daughter disappeared into the bathroom with her bag "Alright then get going. Don't forget to wash and brush your teeth."

Several minutes later, she reappeared. Kitted out in her striped sweater and denim dungarees with a mini pair of clunky work boots. She loved those boots even though they were made for little boys. Her hair was tied up in odd lopsided bunches. Grinning her cheeky and lovable grin she skipped over to her father and the pair exited the motel room and off to the diner down the road. Chrissie was bouncing with excitement as she sat in the booth of the diner. It wasn't like her father to take her out for breakfast when he was busy with his "work", she would normally be plonked in front of the TV with a bowl of Lucky Charms. John was up to his eyeballs in research that was wearing thin. He needed to go out later but the boys were at school. There was no other option. Chrissie would have to be left alone in the strange and musky motel room until he or the boys came back. Chrissie was a little spitfire he told himself as he watched his daughter finger the laminated menu with awe, she was fearless and was independent enough to take care of herself. She would be fine he convinced himself as a waitress approached them.

A large chocolate milkshake was placed in front of the beaming four year old and a small plate piled with pancakes, decorated with strawberries and whipped cream made her gawp furthermore. She clapped and grabbed her fork and began devouring her plate like a mini locust. The poor kid lived of junk and crappy diner food and this seemed to be the first decent meal for her in a long time. She relished it happily as her father kept a watchful eye over her. John continued to remind himself that Chrissie would be fine when he would have to eventually leave her alone to go out. The kid was smart he told himself over and over. A tiny voice brought him out of his daydream.

"Daddy?"

John blinked and smiled "Yeah."

"I's finished my pancakes," grinned Chrissie with a chocolate stained mouth, she then pointed at her empty plate, "See."

Damn he thought, the kid was like a mini trash compactor, she had obviously picked up bad habits from her brothers. Well one of them anyway. John paid the bill and left the diner with his little girl toddling at his heel. Now was the difficult part.

Chrissie bounded back into the motel room and dived onto the sofa and seized the TV remote. To her delight _Rugrats_ appeared on the TV screen. She giggled as she watched her show in silence unaware that her father was going to break some bad news to her. The poor thing assumed that he was wanting to spend time with her today. That made it all the harder for John. But he couldn't abandon this hunt. Lives were at stake. Chrissie would eventually grow up to realise that. He swallowed and sat down beside her on the sofa.

"What's this yer watchin?" he asked, an icebreaker before he dealt the blow.

"Wugwats," replied Chrissie, her gaze still on the TV as Tommy and the gang wound up the bully Angelica, Chrissie frowned at the animated character, "She's a bitch."

John almost choked on his own air. The little girl was none the wiser of the fact that she had said one of her first curse words. Not only was Chrissie's stomach a bottomless pit but she was a little parrot too. John would need to have a word with his sons later about what words they used in front of their baby sister. He couldn't scold her. Not now.

"Christina" said John in a gentle yet firm tone, "You're a big girl right."

"Uh huh," nodded the child looking up at her father, "I's a big girl."

John smiled sadly and let out a heavy sigh. Confused and anxious, the little girl climbed onto John's knee. Her eyes had went wide. He couldn't do this. Yes he could. He needed to. She would be fine.

"Daddy has to go out for a while," he said softly only to be confronted with large sad eyes, "Daddy has important work to do."

"Can't I come with you?" said the wounded four year old, with a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

"Not yet honey" replied John as he saw tears well in his baby girl's eyes.

He rocked her on his knee before he shook her off to gather his things that he required. The little girl watched him sadly from the sofa. He headed to the door, he turned his head, wishing he hadn't, the look on Chrissie's face said it all.

"Remember Chrissie, don't break the salt lines and if anybody comes to the door or into the room, you hide," he instructed her, "I'll be back soon."

With that last instruction, John left. Leaving Chrissie all alone, with only the buzz of animated characters to keep her company. One thing and one thing only went through her innocent mind. Daddy doesn't like me. She began to cry. Small, heartbroken sobs that nobody could hear.

**Several hours later**

"I swear Sammy if you mention anything about that damn essay report, I will slap you so hard you'll end up in New Zealand" grunted Dean.

Twelve year old Sam rolled his eyes at his older brother. He was ecstatic that his essay on The Battle of Gettysburg got an A+, then realised he was bleating on about it too much and decided to shut up for the rest of the car journey back from school. What would Dad say he wondered and it soon came to his attention that his truck wasn't in the parking lot.

The brothers climbed out of the car and scanned about. The truck was gone. Then it dawned on them. Something that they wished wasn't true. The motel room was unlocked and they peeked inside. Nobody was in. They sighed in relief until they heard the sounded of small whimpers echoing throughout the room. He had finally done it. Their father had actually left the smallest and most vulnerable member of the family alone. Was hunting more important to him than family? Words were going to be exchanged on his return. Harsh words.

"Chrissie," called Dean searching the room, "Come on out kiddo."

Sam spotted her suddenly. Tucked under one of the beds, he was surprised how she even managed to squirm out. The youngest of the children had traces of tears streaks down her delicate face and her eyes were red and puffy from a crying marathon. She charged into Sam's arms, almost winding him. The distraught youngster burst into fresh tears as she hugged her brother's legs. Dean was pissed. Why would Dad leave her alone. She hates being left alone. Chrissie ran to him and he caught her in his arms. He wiped away her tears with his thumb.

"When did Dad go out?" he asked his baby sister.

"Dunno" was the broken answer he got, "Ages ago. We's had pancakes then he weft me awone."

The brother exchanged glances as they comforted their upset little sister. Nobody upset's little Chrissie. Not even her own father. Not while they were around.

**Later**

"How could you do that Dad!" raged Dean, "She's four years old. You can't leave her home alone at her age. God knows what could happen. Anything could happen!"

John was as guilty as hell for doing so but he still had a reason. He fought his ground regardless.

"There was a life at stake, a spirit that prays on pregnant women! I had to go. It was important!" retorted John angrily.

Dean was furious "What! More important than the welfare of your own daughter! The kid probably thinks you hate her. You never make time for her. She doesn't even know you because your never here!"

John was torn by that statement. He cared about her very much. She was his only daughter. One of the three apples in his late wife's eye. Nobody could doubt his love for his children. Since the fire however, looking at her, seemed difficult. Guilt had now overpowered him. His only relief. Alcohol. He barged past his eldest and slammed the door behind him. He would have to face the music. One day.

_**PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW. I need an energy and confidence boost. This week has sucked. Blame it on exams.**_


	10. Tony Randall's Life Lesson

**Chrissie has one special request for Santa.**

Tony Randall hated his life. He had three failed marriages, a son in prison for armed robbery and a daughter going through a custody battle with her ex husband. He had been a shopping mall Santa for over 10 years now and he was fed up. He often contemplated suicide but turned to hard liquor to ease his depression. Nothing seemed to work. Little did he know that he would be approached by a tragic yet lovable figure one day whilst in the role of Santa Claus. He was to be given a life lesson in the form of a simple request.

Chrissie trotted alongside her big brothers, her hands tightly gripped onto each of the brothers hand for protection. Her boots squeaked on the titled floor as she hummed _Jingle Bells _to herself. Unlike most infants her age, the Christmas holiday was almost alien to her. She never received a mountain of toys or even sat down to a large turkey dinner. Christmas consisted of her sitting with her brothers in a motel room watching TV whilst her father was passed out drunk. That was her Christmas. This year however she wanted to get something special for her father. The only person she could ask. Santa.

"We gonna see Santa now?" asked the infant, looking up at her brother Sam.

"Yup we just need to find him" answered the gangly twelve year old smiling at the youngest sibling.

"Is Daddy gonna be here for pwesents dis year?" the child quizzed hopefully.

Sam exchanged an awkward glance to the eldest of the children. Sixteen year old Dean simply shrugged. He knew the answer but could find the right words to tell the little girl.

Sam sighed "I dunno Chrissie. Maybe. I hope so."

Chrissie then broke free from her brothers hands and pointed over to a colourful little shack with stuffed reindeer and fake snow. Her small gloved hands clapped excitedly and she beamed gleefully.

"Der's Santa! Der's Santa!" she squealed running over to the queue of waiting children, her brothers dashing after her.

Most of the children in the line were in the company of their mothers. Chrissie watched one little girl, who was a year or two older than her with curly black hair, hugging her heavy built mother. Chrissie felt a pang of sadness. No more so than her brothers. They hated the fact that she didn't know her mother. They hated the fact that she was dead.

"Sammy? How does Santa know were to go?" questioned Chrissie taking a hold of her brother's hand once again.

Sam smiled "That's because Santa's magic. He knows a lot of cool tricks and he can get into everybody's house without anybody knowing."

Chrissie wrinkled her nose "But will he find us? We's ain't got a house."

Sam tapped her nose "Course he'll find us. Like I said he's magic."

Tony was tired of hearing the demands from spoilt bratty children. He questioned himself on why he was still working this gig. It got him a peanuts wage combined with his as a garbage man. In his fifty five years he had done nothing worth being happy about. Still each year he pulled himself into the Santa suit and yanked on the beard and hat, and he would sit there for hours balancing kids of all ages on his knees. Life sucked for this Santa Claus. His eyes focused on the last child of his shift. It was a little girl about four years old, she was with her older brothers by the look of it. She had large jade green eyes and dark wavy hair. He hadn't come across a child like this before, she was dressed almost like a little boy and he assumed she came from a poorer background from the rest of the children. He grimaced under the white beard and glasses as the child hurried over to him with her brothers behind her.

"Why hello there little girl," boomed Tony in his Santa voice as he pulled the infant onto his knees, "What's your name?"

"I's Chrissie," she grinned, she then introduced her brothers to Tony, "Der my bwothers, Dean and Sammy."

"Have you been a good girl this year Chrissie?" Tony asked in the usual Mall Santa manner.

Chrissie glanced over to Sam who nodded at her in encouragement. She nodded at the man.

"And what would you like for Christmas this year?"

"Oh it not for me. It for my Daddy."

"Your Daddy?"

"Can you bwing people back from heaven?"

Tony frowned and glanced at her brothers who were holding their own breathes as if they knew what she was going to ask.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I's want you to bwing back Mommy from heaven. Daddy's sad all the time. Sammy and Dean too."

Tony had softened, he felt sorry for this motherless little girl. No child should be without a mother. He knew that all to well. Tony was only three when his single mother succumbed to cancer, leaving him in the care of a foster family.

"You want me to bring back your Mommy for your Daddy?"

"Uh huh. Pwease. It would make him so happy. Sammy says your magic and you can do anything."

Tony smiled sadly "I'll see what I can do. But what can I get you."

Chrissie gazed up at the bearded man "Nothin. I's just want Daddy to be happy again."

Tony's heart broke for the little girl. He handed her a small present from the sack at the side of his chair. She beamed and hugged him much to his surprise. Poor kid he said to himself as he watched her being led away by her brothers. He thought his life sucked. That poor little girl.


	11. Birthday Means Cake

_**Part of this story is taken from a moment of my own childhood when my Gran and parents failed to notice me making a mess in the kitchen (how they never noticed the racket I was making still baffles me to this very day, 14 years later.)**_

**Chrissie plans a surprise for Dean's Birthday, resulting in a kitchen nightmare.**

Christmas flew in and soon the world entered the year 1996. Not like the Winchesters did much celebrating during the holiday seasons. The smallest member of the family never fully understood why, maybe it was because Mommy was around anymore assumed little Chrissie. Still her older brothers attempted to their best efforts to inject happiness and love within that period for the sake of the little one. It was mid January and for the eldest out of the three children, had finally reached his seventeenth year, not that anything special was planned. Ever since the death of Mary, their mother, five years previous, birthdays were not well cherished. However the siblings tried to make an effort. The boys would fuss over their little sister on her birthday, even though she would insist that the middle sibling, Sam, would received fair treatment since they shared the same birthday. This year however, the four year wanted to mark the occasion with something special.

John had went out before sunrise, leaving the siblings to fend for themselves that morning. Chrissie could barely see over the kitchenette table, and had to resolve on sitting on several couch cushions so she could reach her oatmeal bowl. She wasn't keen on oatmeal and would grimace whenever she put the sloppy mixture into her tiny mouth. Still, it was the only thing available, so she ate it knowing that if she didn't she would be hungry later.

"How old you now Deanie?" asked the infant, cramming her mouth with oatmeal.

"I'm seventeen" answered Dean gulping a glass of milk.

"Wow!" exclaimed the child with wide eyes, "Dat's weally old."

"Excuse me?" remarked Dean spluttering.

"You old man now," said Chrissie naively, her hair fluffy and wild, "Wike Daddy and Unca Bobby."

"Think you'll find I have a few more years before that" replied Dean with a chuckle.

Sam then appeared from the bathroom. His face was freshly washed and his dark hair was tamed for now.

"We better get a move on, I'm late as it is" he said urgently stuffing his school bag with textbooks.

"Where we going?" questioned Chrissie pushing her oatmeal bowl away, whilst licking the spoon.

"We're takin' Sammy to school" replied the eldest snatching his car keys in front of him.

Sam helped his little sister into her sneakers before the trio rushed out the motel room door.

"I do it!" snapped the child, swatting away Sam's hands as he went to buckle Chrissie into her car seat.

The boys smirked in amusement during the short car journey to Sam's school, the little girl was singing the theme tune of _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ to herself. She only knew the final line of the song and was making up a random tune the rest of the time. Her tiny hands clapped along as she mumbled the tune repeatedly.

**Later**

Chrissie was concentrating extra hard. With pain staking precision she spelt out HAPY and BIFDAY before she once again switched crayons. A bright bold blue color bared the name DEAN with a back to front D and a very misshapen A. The child glanced at her handy work and smiled. It was finished. The picture contained an odd yellow triangle and an apple, it appeared to be an apple pie on further inspection. She hoped her big brother would like the picture she drew for him. Chrissie climbed down from the kitchenette chair with the picture in her clutches, and skipped over to Dean who was busying reading something on the couch opposite the TV. She tapped his arm to get his attention.

"Whatcha got there sweetie?" asked Dean putting down his book.

"A picture," replied the little girl shyly handing him the colorful drawing, "I's made it for you."

A broad smile spread across the eldest's face. Chrissie waited patiently with her hands clasped behind her back, swaying on her heels, her large green eyes wide with adoration.

She mumbled "You like it? I's was gonna draw the car but my black crayon broke. So I's drew you apple pie."

Dean pulled her onto his knee "I think it's awesome."

Chrissie's freckled face lit up "Really!"

Dean nodded "Absolutely."

The child and the teenager embraced.

The siblings had raided the video store the previous day, TV was poor and Dean wanted a break from the usual _Barney _and _Sesame Street_. Chrissie chose the Disney classic _Dumbo_, a movie she had never seen and the fact that it had a baby elephant with oversized ears amused the little girl. She clambered onto the couch as her brother shoved the video cassette into the player. Her energy levels were still as high as a kite. After an afternoon of coloring and making Dean play hopscotch with her, she was still eager to play. Yet when Dean suggested watching _Dumbo_, she couldn't object to that idea. The infant intently observed the movie, an adorable expression of wonder painted across her round face. When Dumbo was reunited with his imprisoned mother, the little girl was aware of her brother hugging her tightly.

_Rest your head close to my heartNever to part, baby of mineLittle one when you playDon't you mind what you sayLet those eyes sparkle and shineNever a tear, baby of mine_

He began to stroke her hair, his eyes softening. Growing up was apart of life, but somewhere deep inside him, he wished Chrissie would remain the same lovable and innocent four year old.

_You're so precious to meCute as can be, baby of mine_

He was still daydreaming when he felt a tug on his shirt.

"Deanie, I no like those pink elephants" murmured Chrissie in a frightened tone.

"It's okay baby, your safe, I'm here" he repeated as Chrissie buried her head into his chest to block the image of the strange pink elephants.

His voice grew gentler before he was aware of his eyes drooping. Within several minutes of the song ending, he was sound asleep.

"Deanie, der gone now," said Chrissie shaking her brother, "Dean."

She paused and cooed whilst clapping her hands together "Aw you sleepy. Kay you sleep den."

Chrissie wriggled from under her brother's arms and crawled from the couch. She scratched her head, conjuring up a plan on what to do now before gazing back to her sleeping brother. Chrissie tottered over to the bed and gathered her blanket in her arms then returning to Dean. She tucked the blanket carefully around him awkwardly, the child smiled and patted his knee gently.

"You sleep big brother," she whispered, then adding brightly "I'm gonna make you a cake. It's is your birthday. Birthday means cake."

Then it dawned on the four year old, she had no idea how to make cake, yet that did not hinder the plans of making one for her big brother.

"Kay. What do I need?" wondered Chrissie opening the refrigerator "I's need eggs."

She grabbed a hold of the packet of eggs and placed them on top of the kitchenette countertop. The child had to scrap a chair across so she could reach. More ingredients were gathered including a tin of baked beans, ketchup, milk and coffee.

"Good," beamed Chrissie as she began to smash the eggs into a large bowl, "Now I can start the cake."

Once the twelve eggs had been enveloped under a layer of milk and coffee beans, Chrissie paused.

She wrinkled her nose "What now, uh, ketchup."

Just before she splattered ketchup into the unholy mixture, Chrissie gazed over at Dean. He was still asleep, completely unaware of the kitchen nightmare unfolding under his very nose. Chrissie gasped as some of the content of the ketchup splashed onto her face.

"Uh oh" she said worriedly noticing that it had went on her sweater too.

She shrugged and continued her mini mission. The hard part had arrived, the tin of baked beans. She was certain that you had thump it on a solid surface in order of it to open. So she did just that, caring little about the racket she was creating.

"What the hell!" said Dean springing to life on hearing a loud thud, he spun his head around and discovered an apocalypse in the form of Chrissie with a bowl of mess in her hands, clutter around her.

He went to her and sat on his haunches, eyes level with hers. The little girl gulped with an embarrassed look on her mucky face.

"Christina," started Dean, "What have you been up to?"

"I was trying to make you a cake" replied the youngster guiltily, "Birthday means cake."

Dean shook his head fondly at his little sister and chuckled. Birthday means cake. It would be in the ranking of top ten Chrissie quotes, Dean would never forget it and he would make sure Chrissie wouldn't either.

_**PLEASE REVIEW (I'll be sad otherwise **__**L**__**)**_


	12. The Fairy that lives in Sammy's Pocket

_**Try this tactic on small kids, they might believe you. My older cousin's two year old did and it brought a smile to her wee face as well as mine. It got me thinking, maybe Sam told little Chrissie the same thing as I told my cousin's toddler.**_

The light orb was back again, darting about the ceiling of the motel room. Chrissie was sitting crossed legged on the bed, her large green eyes fixed on the light orb, head cocked to one side in curiosity and wonder. She wrinkled her nose.

"What is dat?" asked the inquisitive four year old, dressed in her best yet aging overalls.

"What's what?" responded Sam, as he flicked through the TV channels.

Chrissie pointed at the light "Dat!"

Sam glanced up and frowned. Then he realised, it was the sun reflecting on his wrist watch. The cogs and wheels turned in the mind of the twelve year old. It was just a light orb after all but something told him to say otherwise. He grinned.

"It's a fairy" he said, switching off the TV and wandered over to his baby sister.

"A fairy?" exclaimed Chrissie, jaw dropping. "Really?"

"Yeah," nodded Sam, sitting beside her . "Can you see her?"

Chrissie beamed "Uh huh. She's weally tiny. Fairies has wings. Der magic."

Sam laughed. The rest of the day was spent in Chrissie following the light orb and trying to "catch" the fairy. As dusk fell, the light orb vanished. Chrissie's small rounded face fell.

"Where'd the fairy go Sammy?" questioned the infant sadly, a pout on her face.

"Uh, the fairy only comes out when the sun's out you see" he stated.

"Where'd she live?" wondered Chrissie.

Sam racked his brains and delved into his jean pockets. A smile returned to his face.

"In my pocket" added Sam.

Years later when Chrissie was older, her brothers would tease her whenever they got a reflection shining from their watches.

"Look Chris," they'd say laughing. "The fairy's back."

"Shut up" she would retort with a roll of her eyes.


	13. A Scold, A Smack and a Sob

**Curiosity lands Chrissie in trouble.**

Chrissie pottered about aimlessly about the small, creaky house her father had rented for a few weeks. She enjoyed stamping on the floorboards as it made the heels of her Velcro strapped sneakers flash with sparkling lights. For once she had her own room, though she felt uneasy sleeping by herself, often wailing about strange creatures that she could see under her bed. Still it gave her an open opportunity to jump on the bed without anybody noticing and her habit of repeatedly singing nursery rhymes and TV show theme tunes didn't bother anybody. Boredom had now settled in. All the pictures in her coloring book had been completed, she had no toys to play with and her brothers were occupied with their own tasks. Sam was concentrating on homework again and Dean was cleaning some funny looking items. Then the four year old saw it. An elegant yet powerful object on the coffee table near where her elder brothers were sitting. The sunlight made it glint and a magpie instinct attracted Chrissie to wander over to investigate. Her brother's failed to notice the child picking up the handgun. Chrissie's eyes widened and she giggled and pointed it at Dean.

"Wook!," she announced brightly. "I's gotten a gun!"

Panic and fear flashed throughout the brothers. Their precious baby sister was clutching a gun in her small hands, the worst part was that she wasn't fully aware of what it could do. They prayed that she wouldn't accidentally pull the trigger even though it wasn't loaded. Sam's textbook flew into the air and his papers scattered, his eyes full of horror and alarm. However it was Dean's reaction that was the worst. He became animated within seconds and lunged at the little girl, grabbing her by the shoulders. Chrissie by this point had lowered the gun on seeing the fear in her brother's eyes only for the gun to be snatched out of her hands.

"CHRISTINA MARY WINCHESTER!," he thundered, startling the little girl in the process. "ARE YOU TRYING TO GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA ON HOW DANGEROUS A GUN IS?"

Chrissie was trembling in shock, she had never seen her big brother this mad before. She didn't like it one bit, it reminded her too much of her father after one whiskey too many. Her watering eyes fixed on her feet, shame washing over her tiny mind, too frightened to gaze up at her brother. Sam was aware of this and attempted vainly to calm the eldest sibling down.

"Dude cut it out your scaring her" he said.

"WELL NOW SHE KNOWS HOW I FEEL THEN!," he bellowed before glowering at the youngest. With a shift and sudden movement he grabbed her skinny arm in a vice like grip, and smacked his sister's rear end which caught her and Sam off guard.

Chrissie reacted to the stinging pain immediately and stood frozen on the spot. Tears pooled in her large green eyes, lip pouted out and wobbling. Anger vanished within the eldest sibling's eyes and was replaced by deep regret and guilt. He couldn't believe what he just did. He had just hit his baby sister. Sam gawped at him in astonishment and outrage, completely lost for words. The child gazed up at the eldest with tears leaking down her small freckled face, shoulders convulsing as she hitched her breathe.

"Chrissie," he pleaded woefully trying to hold his sister's face in his hands. She refused and slapped his hands away. "Sweetheart I'm sorry."

"You's a big meanie!" said Chrissie before bursting into tears.

The little girl turned on her flickering heels and fled, tearing up the stairs with clumpy steps.

After slamming the door behind her, Chrissie clambered onto her bed. Chrissie slithered underneath the ancient bed sheets trying her best to hide. She was a bad girl she told herself repeatedly, she made her brother cross which only made her weep harder.

Meanwhile, downstairs Sam faced his brother.

"What the hell was that?" he stated in disbelief before charging after the distraught infant.

It was obvious that Chrissie had claimed refuge in her bedroom. What was more noticeable was the sound of her sobs drifting into the upstairs landing and echoing throughout the rest of the dilapidated rental house. Sam paused outside her door for a second. His heart would splitter whenever the baby got upset. Nobody ever upsets little Chrissie. Slowly he entered his baby sister's sanctuary. A small lump underneath the bed sheets gave Chrissie's position away, also the fact that is were the noise was coming from. Gently, Sam eased the bed sheets off the child. The poor thing was laying on her front, hands covering her eyes as she continued to cry her little heart out. She flinched in fright as Sam's hand touched her shoulder.

" Chrissie," he started softly shaking her on the shoulder. "Look at me."

Chrissie turned over and dived into his waiting arms. Tears still streaking down her distressed face.

"I's made Deanie mad Sammy," she sobbed smothering her face into his sweater. "I's didn't mean too. I's sworry. I no mean to pick up da gun."

"I know kiddo," soothed Sam holding the four year old close to him. "Dean ain't mad with you. He's just upset. How could he be mad with you? You're his baby, you know that."

"But I's picked up da gun and he hitted me."

"Like I said he was just upset."

"I's bad. I's not getting fish sticks for dinner. I's a bad girl."

Chrissie refused to move and remained in her room for a full hour. She was in BIG trouble and she knew it. Why else would have Dean spanked her. Now he was mad at her for doing something very naughty. Unsure whether or not she would receive the same punishment, Chrissie thought it best to stay in her room.

At twelve years old Dean had been annoyed at the beginning about having a new sibling, it meant more responsibility and he had been watching out for Sam since he was born. Yet on seeing baby Christina for the first time, he fell in love with her and soon became her unofficial second mother. He knew what his duty in life was now. Alongside an eight year old Sam, the baby was to be protected from harm and sorrow. After the fire that claimed their home and the life of their beloved mother six months later, Dean knew his little brother and sister needed him now more than anything. Now five years later he had failed his mother, whom told him to take care of his younger siblings. Sorrow and harm had befallen on Chrissie, and he caused it to happen. What would his mother think of him now? She would be ashamed, he knew that for sure. He made the baby cry.

The seventeen year old sat down at the bottom of the stairs, unsure on how he was going to approach Chrissie and what he was going to say to her. Sorry was the obvious. He ran his hands through his hair, his mind recollecting on some fond memories he had shared with Chrissie and even just her strange, adorable mannerisms and funny sayings brought a tear to his eye. Her eyes often wide with adoration and internal laughter. Why did he have to erupt like that in front of her. The tiny girl had already witnessed her father drunk several times and it distressed her to see her father dismayed and angry. Like father like son. A creak on the stairs made him snap his head around. Sam had decided to leave the room in order to give Chrissie some space to calm down. He perched himself on one step above his gloomy looking brother.

"I'm such an asshole" groaned Dean, placing his head in his hands.

"Took you long enough to realise that?" replied Sam with a sarcastic smirk.

"Why did I do it?"

"Like I told her, you were upset"

"I left the gun on the coffee table. It's my fault and I blamed her. Why wasn't I watching her. I should've been watching her."

"Don't beat yourself up about it"

"Why it's true and you know it. You saw it for yourself. I hit the baby!"

Hanging his head, Sam sighed heavily and pinched the bring of his nose.

Chrissie cuddled into the bed sheets, her face stained with salty tear trails, eyes red and puffy from crying. An hour had given her time to contemplate on her actions. She was certain an eerie voice told her to dry her eyes and not to be afraid. The child was sure the voice belonged to Cassie, the blue eyed angel she had encountered months ago, but remained uncertain. But this voice belonged to a female, Cassie wasn't female as she recalled. Chrissie in her misery could almost make out the voice's form, which made her recollect further. Cassie didn't have long blonde hair like a lady. This figure was a mystery to her, it didn't stay around for long so Chrissie never had the opportunity to ask it. The sound of the door opening broke her from her thoughts and wonders.

"Chrissie? Can I come in?"

Chrissie peeked over the covers. It was Dean, bearing an expression of remorse. The four year old nodded. Gingerly, the elder sibling sat down next to her. An awkward silence fell for several minutes before Chrissie sniffed.

"I's a bad girl," she said as the tears welled up once again. "I's a bad, bad girl"

The teenager scooped her into his arms as she began to cry. She was timid at first but became relaxed as he cradled her in his warm and safe embrace.

"Y-y-you n-not w-w-wove me n-no m-m-more," wept Chrissie. "Y-y-you h-hates me."

"I don't hate you," responded the eldest. He cupped her chin gently with his fingers and tilted her head up. "I love you too much. You're my little Chrissie."

Wiping her tears away with his thumb he added "Don't cry baby. Your breakin' my heart."

Chrissie gasped and pressed her small hands against his chest, eyes wide.

"Oh no!," she cried. "I's sorry. I no means to bwake you heart. I's bwoke it!"

"You haven't broken anything," assured Dean with a chuckle. "It's just a figure of speech."

The infant sniffed and wrinkled her nose and nestled into him. She shivered as she noticed a figure at the other end of the room. The figure looked friendly enough, with long blonde hair and angelic eyes that gazed at her and her brother. Chrissie returned to her brother's hug in an attempt to avoid the figure's stare. Like her blue eyed angel Cassie, the lady with yellow hair as Chrissie named her would visit throughout her childhood whenever danger or distress loomed over the siblings. She would never discover her identity though somewhere in her mind she knew already.

"Woves you Deanie" mumbled Chrissie facing away from the female in white.

"I love you too sweetheart" he responded, planting a kiss on her mane of brown hair.

The female smiled at the siblings, eyes filled with passion and love, and she slowly disappeared into thin air.

_**Please review! Pretty please.**_


	14. Frozen in Time

**Chrissie frolics in a wonderland of snow with her brothers**

Chrissie's eyes widened in glee at the sight she looked upon from the motel room window. Snow was fluttering down from the sky above and was leaving a thin blanket on the ground. Weather reports stated that the blizzard would continue into the night and there was a likely chance that many people would be stranded due to the sudden attack from Jack Frost and his minions. Still the four year old didn't mind one bit, and her naïve and pure innocence was highlighted by her sweet giggles and coos as she watched the snow fall. It was night time which made it appear more magical.

"We's gonna needs a blanket" she said simply, her gaze still on the snow storm outside.

Twelve year old Sam glanced over from the couch, pressing mute on the television remote. He had been observing his baby sister for the past thirty minutes and the pre-teen relished in seeing her happy. Putting the remote down on the coffee table, the youth wandered over to the little girl and pulled her onto his lap once he sat down on the bed. Nevertheless, the child's focus remained on the activity outdoors.

"Why are we gonna need a blanket?" asked Sam.

"The Pala," replied Chrissie pointing over at the 67' Impala that was sitting alone in the parking lot. "She get cold cos the snow. Blanket make her warm again."

Sam smiled and rolled his eyes fondly at her. If he knew Chrissie, he knew that the infant would be determined to give a car a blanket in order to defend itself against the snow.

"The car isn't a person" he told her.

Chrissie pouted as she sighed. Trust the infant to mix reality and imagination.

"I's wanna play in the snow" said the little girl cocking her head to one side as she bounced in her brother's lap.

"In the morning" replied Sam with a smile.

"Awww" whined Chrissie dramatically "I's wanna play in the snow now!"

"In the morning," repeated the middle sibling "It's getting late and besides it's your bedtime and you know how grouchy you get when you've not had enough sleep."

"I's no wanna go to sleep," sulked Chrissie "Deanie not back yet. He said he'd come back to tell me bedtime story."

Suddenly Dean appeared at the window, starling Sam in the process while Chrissie laughed as her elder brother pulled funny faces at the pair from behind the glass window. Chrissie wriggled herself of Sam's knees and toddled over to the doorway to let her big brother in. The child could hardly reach the door handle but with determination she managed in the end. Once the eldest sibling entered the room he was greeted by the warm embrace of the youngest. He had only been out to grab some provisions yet Chrissie acted like she hadn't seen him in days, as was a normal custom in her behaviour.

"Youse back!" beamed the infant as she squeezed her big brother's legs. She gazed up at him with her large green eyes. "I's missed you."

"I've missed you too baby" returned the eldest swooping the tiny girl up into his arms.

"It snowing Deanie!," said Chrissie excitedly before she paused. She tilted her head again, perplexed. "I's thought it only snowed at Christmas. Why it snow now?"

Always full of questions was the small Christina Winchester as is any young child at that age of discovery. The brothers only hoped that the family business wouldn't be discovered just yet. Not now. They didn't want to take her childhood away from her. It was something they both had to endure after their mother's death five years previous. For the same to happen to their beloved baby sister, it would break their already broken hearts.

"I dunno," answered Dean with a smile. He glanced at the clock on the wall and noticed it was eight o'clock. "Right Chrissie. We gotta get you ready for bed."

He chuckled as he watched his little sister scowl, something she was being to pattern into her personality. She was at the age of defying bedtime as was forever wanting to play and going to bed spoiled the fun. However the promise of a bedtime story eventually solved the problem, as long as she didn't keep asking questions and wanting more stories then Chrissie would be out like a light.

Chrissie watched a torrent of water gush out of the taps and fill the small bathtub that waited for her. The child hugged a fluffy yet aging towel around her small skinny frame, her dark brown hair a wild mane of fuzzy chaos once Dean removed her bunches. She shivered and curled her toes against the bath mat under her soft padded feet, she loved bath times but hated the waiting process as it meant exposure to the cold draughts of night. Her brother gently dipped his elbow into the water to monitor the temperature to make sure it was safe for the infant. Aware of the child's dignity, Dean averted his eyes as he lowered his sister into the water.

Chrissie relaxed as the lukewarm water soothed her before she screwed her face in disgust and outrage as a soapy flannel began scrubbing her grimy cheeks.

"I swear you must play in the gutter with the state your face is in." commented the elder sibling, a remark that fell on deaf ears as the little girl smacked the water with the palms of her hands, making it ripple. "But what else are you meant to do."

Chrissie's eyes met her brothers and for a second or two, the siblings stared at each other. Radiant as they were, Dean swore he could see sadness and fear in his sister dazzling green eyes. How that glint managed to get there proved to be a mystery.

"So what did you and Sammy get up to today whilst Daddy and I were out at work?," he asked striking up a conversation with his baby sister. "Anything fun?"

"Yup," started Chrissie smiling. "I's had eggs with army guys for breakfast, den Sammy and I watched Bert and Ernie, den we's played Ghost, den Hide and Go Seek…"

Chrissie continued her long description on her day which made her brother grin as she rambled on and on.

"I's den coloreded some pictures for you and Daddy and I's wanted to get ice-ceem but Sammy said no cos it snowing and it too cold for ice-ceem. He said we play in snow tomorrow cos it bedtime now. But I not sweepy yet. I's gonna make a snowman and he come away with us."

Dean shook his head fondly at his little sister as he proceeded with scrubbing her skin with the soap lathered flannel.

"We can't take a snowman away with us honey" he said regrettably.

"Why?" pouted Chrissie endearingly.

"Cos you and Sammy would be smooshed in the car with a snowman in the back," explained the teenager. "Besides he'll melt. You know that."

The infant nodded solemnly and gave a huffed sigh of defeat. She began yawning as her brother finished his task and fatigue was drifting in and out of the littlest Winchester. Her growing urge for independence was shown as she was able to button up her _Batman _sleep suit and to brush her milk teeth without any assistance from her big brother. An elaborate bed time story involving a robotic elephant called Dave, who ventured into the jungle to rescue a little girl called Izzy from evil Dinosaurs, with help from her big brothers Hammy and Bean, finally sent the child into a deep slumber.

"Goodnight baby," hushed the eldest kissing her on her forehead. "Angel's are watching over you."

As her breathing became soft and with the steady yet slow rise of the bed sheet lump, the brothers watched over their sister, glancing back and forth to the snow storm outside their tiny motel room.

**The Following Morning**

"Chrissie" crooned Dean as he ruffled the infant's feathery hair, which roused her slightly as she turned over and began to blink blearily at her big brother. He smiled down at her.

"Rise and shine sweetheart"

The little girl gazed up at him and beamed her famous heart warming, mischievous grin. She rubbed the sleep out of her bright eyes with balled up fists and yawned, her hair a wild bush.

"Did you sleep well?"

Chrissie nodded.

"Anymore nightmares?"

Chrissie shook her head before cocking it to one side and drew her attention to the frosty window.

"Is snow still here?" questioned the infant hopefully scrabbling across the bed so she could peek out the window.

"See for yourself" smirked her brother.

Her eyes widened in delight as she saw thick blankets of white snow covering every inch of the parking lot outside. The sight was jaw dropping for the four year old and she clapped her small hands in joy and cheered happily. Chrissie glanced over at the still sleeping middle sibling-whom she was sharing a bed with- her smile spread further. Without warning she launched herself at her brother, surprising him so much that he tumbled from the bed, making the eldest roar with laughter. Thankfully for Chrissie she remained on the bed and looked down at a disgruntled Sam who was rubbing his rear end, tangled in the bed sheets he took down with him. She giggled innocently at the twelve year old who merely sigh and rolled his eyes at her. It was something he was definitely accustomed to.

"There are nicer ways to wake people up in the morning Chrissie" the middle sibling pointed out as he clambered to his feet.

"But it's funny" tittered Chrissie sweetly.

Half an hour later, after a huge debate on what was being served as breakfast, the siblings were ready to embark on some light relief, with the littlest one leading the way. The brothers had taken extra precautions with Chrissie and bundled her up like a package to keep the cold air from freezing the small girl. She could hardly move as she rushed outside, waddling like a duckling who had been stuffed full of bread chucks. The scarf in which was wound round her neck blocked part of her vision as it came half way up her face. A navy knitted hat with a red pom pom was clamped over her pink ears and her dainty fingers were shielded by matching mittens. Her arms stuck out comically due to the puffy jacket she was ordered to wear. Unfortunately Chrissie had no Wellington boots so she had to make do with three pairs of socks as her clumpy boots proved useless in snowy conditions. It was a wonder how she didn't topple over with all the extra weight she was carrying. Nevertheless, the four year old leapt around the parking lot like a spring activated toy, with her brothers watching over her like guard dogs.

"I wish Dad was here to see her like this," commented Sam sadly. "He never spends time with her. He's always to busy."

The eldest remained silent as he observed his baby sister. The twelve year old was right. Their father was forever letting them down, giving out false hope and promises, it pained the brothers to see him disappoint Chrissie. He was becoming a stranger to his only daughter. Chrissie calls to them brought the pair out of their thoughts and into reality again.

Sam taught Chrissie how to make snow angels but whilst he was instructing her, he found himself under attack by a barrage of snowballs. A cackle of laughter gave the perpetrator away instantly.

"Dude!," Sam yelped at his brother. Suddenly he was smacked in the face by one particularly large snowball. "Owwww!"

The brothers larked around with their snowball battle, leaving Chrissie to perfect the art of how to make a snow angel. Eventually with energies running low, the siblings began constructing a snowman. Once completed, it was up to Chrissie to name it.

"Homer" declared Chrissie proudly. "He called Homer."

Years later, she would be asked on how did she come up with the name.

"Meh. I dunno," she would reply with a shrug. "_The Simpsons _I guess."

A photograph of the four year old with the snowman would also be forever treasured by the eldest, her large eyes and cheeky grin would greet him each time he delved into his wallet. A precious moment frozen in the form of a photograph. A moment he'd wish he could revisit but knew it was impossible. He couldn't stop Chrissie from growing up even though he wanted to. All children had to grow up, including his baby sister.

_**Please review**_


	15. Puppy in the Window

_**I know this one is short but as the saying goes it will be short and sweet.**_

**Chrissie's common childhood pastime**

Tiny hands compressed against the glass window, leaving a temporary hand print. Large doleful green orbs gazed forlornly out into the half deserted parking lot and near silent street. The sun was fading, to be replaced by the silver moon, announcing the transition into night time. For those passing by would stop suddenly to glance briefly at the sorrowful little girl staring out of the grubby motel window.

Their hearts would flutter at first. The child, no older than four and a half, had the most dazzling eyes and freckles that were sprayed across her button nose. Her hair was a scruffy mane of brown waves, with an additional decoration of a bumblebee clip that held back her heavy bangs from her eyes. The infant was adorable. Then their hearts would splitter at the sight of her mournful expression. Eyes wide in hopeful anticipation, watering with unshed tears as she pouted out her bottom lip which quivered now and again. It was like walking into an animal shelter and seeing a puppy in the window. Those who stopped never questioned the origins of the child's misery and proceeded with the lives. A different state, a different motel, to which different people witnessed the same scene. A lonely little girl, a puppy in the window, would was merely waiting. Waiting for her Daddy and big brothers to come back safe and sound. For she hated being alone.

"I's scared of the dark," she would repeat. "You come home now."


	16. Chrissie and the Bully

_**Alrighty folks this one will be longer as this is going to be a better chapter than my previous ones. **_

**Chrissie makes a stand for basic human rights.**

It wasn't often that Chrissie was allowed to go to the park but when she was permitted to do so, under the watchful eye of one of her big brothers of course, she would relish it with all her heart. She giggled gleefully as she saw the playground in the distance from her elder brother's shoulders. Chrissie tugged at the invisible horse reins which urged her sibling along and cautiously across the road.

"What the rules of crossing the road again?" asked Dean.

"I's looks both ways and if der's no cars I's cross" replied the four and a half year old.

"And?," continued her brother. "What else must you being doing too?"

Chrissie furrowed her brow in concentration. During the past few days after she scared her brothers by toddling out into a road to catch the wonky paper airplane she had made, the infant was getting drilled about road safety.

"Holding a grown ups hand" she said eventually.

"That's right," smiled the teenager. He then queried further. "And why must you do that."

"Cos I's can get squisheded by a truck," Chrissie stated in a serious tone. "Den everybody will be sad."

The seventeen year old rolled his eyes at his sister who was developing a strange sarcastic sense of humour. Chrissie had certain saying that would make him laugh. For instance Chrissie once told him:

"Da grass green cos God sneezed and gotten boogers on it"

The fact that the child was so earnest when she made that statement only made him laugh harder. Another time Chrissie said:

"Da moon is made of cheese and mouse aliens lives on it"

The playground homed into view. To a child it was like arriving at the pearly golden gates of heaven itself. A various assortment of colourful monkey bars and climbing frames was mapped out across the designated area; together with a slide, a see saw, roundabout and a collection of swings. Most notably however was the sandbox near the shade beside some old oak trees and a flaking wooden bench from were parents would sit and observe their children. Chrissie could feel her ears tickle as her grin grew wider and wider as she scanned about. She then spotted it. Down the path from the playground was a small duck pond with it's inhabitants drifting about in the murky water. Clutching the small bag of bread chunks in her hands, Chrissie bounced impatiently on her brother's shoulders, a signal to him to let her down. Once on the ground, the sibling joined hands. Chrissie skipped merrily alongside her brother, mumbling a random tune with the bag of bread leftover in her free hand.

Handfuls of stale bread, or "Dead bread" as Chrissie called it, floated in the water until greedy ducks swam along and gobbled it up. The pond was populated by seven ducks including a cluster of five fluffy ducklings. To Chrissie, once clamping eyes on them, it was love at first sight.

"Baby duckies!," cooed the little girl. "Look Deanie baby duckies and der Momma."

"I see them" smiled the eldest crouching down on his haunches beside the infant.

"I's wants one," said Chrissie. Tugging at her brother's arm she gazed up at him with puppy dog eyes. "Can I's have one. Please."

He had to let her down gently, it pained him to do so as most of the time he found it hard to tell her no.

"Sweetheart," he started. "We can't keep a duckling."

"Why?" pouted Chrissie in disappointment.

"Because it's only a baby," pointed out the teen. He swallowed before stating. "It needs it's Mommy. Ducklings can't survive without her."

Chrissie sulked and hurled the last remained bread crusts in moodily. The very word it's self stung like a bumblebee. Mommy. She didn't have a Mommy, not like the other boys and girls around her. A pang of jealously would rise up inside her whenever she watched a mother and child interact whether in the world of reality or even in television. She would even squirm uncomfortably whenever Tommy from the _Rugrats_ was comforted by his mother. It was unfair that everybody else had a Mommy bar her.

Sensing she was eager to move away from the pond, Dean pulled her gently by the hand and began coaxing her back towards the playground. Chrissie then made a be line for the swings. Clambering on broad, Chrissie dangled her legs and waited patiently for her brother to push her.

"Higher!" she cried in delight as she swooped back and forth. "Higher!"

Dean obeyed his baby sister demands to reach the sky and continued to push her higher and higher until she got bored.

"Your turn Deanie," announced Chrissie wriggling over. "I's push you."

It turned out a harder task than Chrissie imagined.

"I's can't push you!," complained Chrissie, huffing and puffing as she vainly tried to push her eldest brother on the swing. "You's too fat and old!"

"Don't ware yourself out kiddo," he said climbing off as Chrissie finally gave up. "Go play in the sandbox. I'll just be over on the bench."

Chrissie nodded and scurried over to the sandbox. The sandbox was already occupied by another small infant. A little boy around the same age as Chrissie with big hazel eyes and curly auburn hair. His cheeks were doughy and round to which every Grandma would love to pinch. He whipped his head around on hearing her approach.

"Hello!" he greeted, a yellow bucket in his grasp.

"Hello" replied Chrissie nervously, she wasn't used to contact with children her own age.

"I's called Stuart," said the freckled faced preschooler. "Whose you?"

"I's Chrissie," introduced Chrissie plonking herself down next to the little boy who seemed to be building something with the yellow bucket in his possession. She was intrigued. "Whatcha doing?"

"I's building Sandcastles," answered Stuart proudly. "Wanna help. I's gonna be King and you can be Queen."

From the bench a few metres away Dean couldn't stop beaming. Chrissie had the old charm and was making instant friends with the chubby little boy. It wasn't every day he saw four year olds flirting. Still he was vigilant as he spotted a larger child, around six years old, hovering nearby, eyeing up the sandbox and it's occupiers with beady eyes. As Chrissie and Stuart completed their ultimate sandcastle, giggling and whooping with joy, the older child made their move.

The boy, wearing an old green t-shirt and red shorts with a band aid plastered on his left knee, marched over.

Chrissie and Stuart appeared bewildered at the shadow that had cast over them and whipped their heads up to see the six year old looming over them.

"Babies can't play in the sandbox" sneered the dirty faced child.

"We's ain't babies" said Chrissie in shock. She added. "I's nearly five."

The kindergartner sniffed distastefully at the smaller infants and with a swift nudge of his foot, caused the sandcastle to collapse. Stuart howled in despair as his magnum opus was destroyed in front of his very eyes. Chrissie's reaction was entirely different to her sobbing sandcastle buddy. Standing defiantly against the bully, Chrissie glowered up at him, sizing him up with tiny daggers.

"Youse a meanie!" glared Chrissie, fingers curled in tight fists.

The bully shook his head pityingly at her and shoved the four year old, knocking her onto her bottom.

Dean, who had been watching the scene unfold was ready for action. Nobody picks on his little sister. He however did not see what was coming next.

Instead of joining her new found friend Stuart in crying, Chrissie steadily got to her feet and stalked over to the bully. Eyes fixed steadily on her target and with all the strength she could muster within herself, kicked the bully square in his little jewels. The bully yelped in agony, Stuart blinked in surprise and Dean smirked in pride. He tried hard not to laugh as Chrissie gloated at her victory. Stuart clapped happily as the bully limped away and hugged Chrissie, and pecked her on the cheek in gratitude, blushing tomato red. Chrissie was no weakling that's for sure. She was a Winchester after all. Nobody dares to mess with them. Even at four years old.

_**Please Review. **_

_**P.S **_

_**My next one needs your help. It centres on a hunt that has gone wrong resulting in injury. The question is….who will it be? You decide and get back to me on it so I can create the next chapter.**_


	17. The Giving of Goober

**Something special is pasted down to Chrissie**

Bobby couldn't concentrate. It was hard for him to translate a Latin scripture John had given him to solve, since he could feel like he was being watched. Bobby glanced towards the table edge, in which he could see a pair of green eyes observing his every moment. It was merely John's four and a half year old daughter, barely able to peek over the table and having to resort to standing on her tip toes.

"Unca Bobby?" queried the little girl. "Whatcha doin' ?"

Letting the paper scripture slide out of his hands, Bobby sighed heavily. His eyes returned to the child staring up at him with a wide curious expression. Leaning back in his chair he could feel the tense muscles in his lower back ache with age and stress.

"Trying to read something yer Daddy gave me" he replied, rubbing his greying beard.

"Does it have dragons in it?," asked Chrissie. "Sammy tolded me a story last night and it's had dragons. Der was a dragon called Jam and it's was sad and he scarded of clowns but he den maded friends with a knight called Deano and they's fighted the clowns and Jam was happy."

Bobby smirked as Chrissie rambled on about her latest bedtime stories. Her brothers knew how to entertain her by means of creating fictional stories for her innocence to believe in. Bobby had been fortunate to have done so on one separate occasion when John had dumped the child on him in order to train his sons, his main priority. He was surprise that his story about a talking car was successful. Irritated by John once again, who had left Chrissie in his care so he could focus himself with his boys, and the fact of the impossible to understand scripture, Bobby was now a babysitter to the four year old.

"You er.." started Bobby uncertainly. The infant blinked up at him. "..want somethin' to eat?"

After thinking about it for a second the little girl nodded in agreement and followed Bobby into his kitchen.

"Will a sandwich do?" asked the gruff voiced hunter.

Chrissie nodded silently once more and proceeded to watch the man assemble an awkward looking creation. Minding her manners, Chrissie gratefully took the peanut butter sandwich from Bobby and began to nibble it slowly. Suddenly Bobby remembered. It was her birthday next week. Quietly he slipped out the kitchen and searched about for the present he had for her. Since the infant shared a birthday with the middle sibling, he reminded himself to deliver Sam's present whenever he got back later that evening. In the meantime, Bobby scoured his ram shackled house for the object. Then he found it.

A bizarre looking teddy bear with stitched eyes and a lopsided red smiling mouth. Now seemed to be the time to give it to the child. Even though it pained him to part with it.

Chrissie whipped her head around on hearing her third father figure return. She clambered down from the chair and whilst beaming up at him she stated proudly:

"I's eated the sandwich"

Her eyes then clamped on the patchwork teddy bear he was holding in his hands.

"Whose dat?" she asked curiously as Bobby knelt down in front of her.

"This is Goober," said Bobby examining the bear with sad eyes. "My wife made him herself years ago. It was hoped that he would belong to our very own little uns' but…."

His late wife was always a painful subject but doing this was part of the healing process he guessed. Stroking the material on the bear stomach with the pads of his thumbs, tears clouding his vision, Bobby continued:

"Since I have no kids of my own, I thought it would be best to give him to you."

Chrissie gasped in awe as she was handed the teddy bear over and was soon cradling in her arms as if it was a baby. She grinned happily and kissed the bear on it's button nose.

"Call it an early birthday present from me" said Bobby.

"Thanks you Unca Bobby" replied Chrissie, embracing him into a vice like hug.

Goober was now the new unofficial member of the family and wherever Chrissie went, sure as anything, Goober would be along for the bumpy ride ahead.


	18. Sing A Long With Chrissie

**Just a random idea that just popped into my head very last minute.**

**Chrissie found a voice, a VERY loud voice.**

"_I's love turtles. I's love turtles. They's go splash, splash, splashy, splashy splash_!" sang four and a half year old Chrissie as she swayed her little head from side to side, flapping her small hands as if she was splashing someone.

At her side was Goober, her best friend in the whole wide world besides her big brothers. The infant had insisted on the patchwork teddy bear wearing a seat belt too and she tried to encourage the soft toy to sing along. Her brother's sitting the front seats of the car could only smile at their chirpy baby sister.

Later, once twelve year old Sam was at school, Chrissie continued her singing. With her brother's shirt wound round her neck like a cape and a pair of her frilly cotton underpants clamped on her head, the child skipped around the motel room with Goober tucked under her arm.

" _We's super duper duper heroes. Flying in da sky we's go WEEEEEEEEE!_"

Seventeen year old Dean rolled his eyes as Chrissie clambered around and under the furniture, repeating the song over and over again. Soon he was cautioning her once she starting doing a trampoline act on the beds, to which she stuck her nose up at him and ignore his warnings.

"Ignore him Goober. He an old man and he can't jump on bed cos he fat too" Chrissie told the bear.

At dinnertime, Chrissie started singing again.

"_Spaghetti goes wiggly wiggly worm. Wiggly wiggly worm._"

Sam grimaced and glanced at his plate of spaghetti. All he could see were muddy, slimy earthworms.

Bath time was no different, this time a number about mermaids and sharks. Bubbles, foam and lukewarm water went all over the floor but a large majority had soaked Dean to the bone.

"You gonna need a bath now Deanie," said Chrissie with an innocent grin. "You's all wet."

Once the boys had finally managed to get their sister to sleep they could softly hear her murmuring a new song about a talking pillow.

"Go to sleep Chrissie!" begged her brothers in unison.


	19. Chrissie's Creation Theory

_**A big shout out to kissacazador, HSMSupernatural, 2People, Soccerchick6 and zanita475.**_

_**Cookies and virtual hugs for you guys! **_

**How was the universe created? Chrissie has found a theory.**

Pastor Jim Murphy was always eager to answer questions from inquisitive youngsters, no more so than the ever curious Christina Winchester. Religion was a mysterious fog in the infant's mind and she would ask a torrent of questions to which the Pastor was more than happy to answer.

Chrissie sat at the large wooden table in the Pastor's kitchen, swinging her dangling legs as she admired a children's illustrated version of the First Testament.

"Pasta Jim, how did Mr God make the world?" enquired Chrissie with an adorable tilt of the head.

Jim Murphy smiled at her and joined her at the table.

"Well a long, long time ago…" began the Pastor, who went on to explain the theory of how the world was created by God in seven days.

Chrissie wrinkled her nose whilst scratching her head in contemplation. She glanced at the glossy picture and inspected every single detail of the illustration.

"Me thinks that God was playing with his big blue ball," accounted Chrissie in a endearing yet serious tone. "Then he losted it in space. Den aliens from outside space came and baked us and dinosaurs. We's fighted the dinosaurs and den Mr Jesus was born. Bad men not happy dat he had magic powers like Santa and they turneded him into Easter egg."

Pastor Jim blinked and chuckled in amusement. Four year old logic was different compared to adult logic. Chrissie flipped onwards until she tilted her head again, a puzzled expression on her freckled face.

"Pasta Jim?," Chrissie asked, stabbing at a censored nude Adam and Eve drawing. "Why is that man and lady naked? Are they's gonna have a bath?"

Pastor Jim beamed fondly at the little girl. _This is going to be a long afternoon_ he said to himself

**Please review.**

**p.s **

**if any of you guys have anything you want me to write about involving little Chrissie, just PM me and I'll see what I can conjure up.**


	20. May 2nd 1996

**The siblings celebrate a double birthday in their own special way**

Thirteen. Sam couldn't believe it. Thirteen meant something to him, it marked the point in his life when he could finally shed his skin and become a man. Then again with an annoying older brother would relished in taunting and embarrassing him, and a little sister would barely reached his waist, it wouldn't come without it's challenges. Maybe now he wouldn't be treated like some kid.

The middle sibling was woken by a soft tap on his cheek. As he creaked his bleary eyes open he was confront by the youngest member of the family. A piece of paper was shoved under his nose.

"What's this?" he asked.

On inspection it was a drawing. Four potato like figures with awkward matchstick limbs stood next to a strange black object that was rectangular in shape with two tiny circles at the bottom of it. Sam smiled.

"I made it for you" replied Chrissie bashfully, her hair fluffy and sticking up wildly.

"Well I gotta hand it to you Chrissie, you're a brilliant artist," complimented the teenager. "I don't know anybody that can draw a car more awesome than you."

Adoration shone in the child's bright emerald orbs, and a large grin spread across her face. Soon the teenager's personal space was interrupted by the tiny infant clambering up beside him, cuddling into him like a kitten.

"Do you have to goes to big school today?" enquired Chrissie, gazing up at him through her bangs.

"Afraid so," sighed her brother. "I've got a Maths test today anyway."

Chrissie's jaw dropped in astonishment.

"On your birthday!" she said in an appalled manner.

"I don't mind" replied Sam truthfully.

Chrissie was then reminded that it was her birthday too and was given a small card. The card was decorated with _Barney the Dinosaur _and a purple five in the centre bursting out of a cake. Both brothers had signed it and left short individual messages. The gratitude Sam got was a near attempt of strangulation from the five year old. The duo was soon joined by the eldest of the litter.

"I's five now Deanie!," beamed Chrissie, winding her skinny arms around the seventeen year old's neck. "I's got a card and it got Barney on it."

The eldest chuckled fondly and hugged his baby sister.

Sam grunted as his brother ruffled his shaggy hair and swatted his hand away with a tired eye roll.

"Maybe you'll hit your growth spurt now Samantha," teased Dean. "Who knows you might become a Sasquatch."

"Shut up jerk," retorted Sam nudging the eldest. "If I do I hope I'm taller than you."

Chrissie blinked and wrinkled her nose in confusion.

"What's a Sissyquack?" she wondered with an endearing head tilt.

The brothers laughed at the serious expression on her little face once they corrected her and explained on what the term meant. They said it was another word for Bigfoot. Chrissie had become more baffled and stared at Sam's sock clad feet before stating:

"I's still don't get it."

**Later**

Chrissie colored absentmindedly and chatting away to Goober who was propped against several dusty books that cluttered up the kitchenette table. The five year old was making the most of her new coloring book and crayons, her present from her big brothers.

"What's your favourite color Goober?," the child asked the patchwork teddy bear. The bear didn't respond in an adult's mind. "Really! Mines is green because my eyeballs are green. I's had a booger yesterday and it was green."

Dean who was sharpening a silver knife grimaced. He smiled to himself as the little girl rambled on, the sheer innocence of youth made the bear alive. If Mom was alive this day would have been different. There would be balloons, banners and streamers, his siblings would have decent birthday presents instead of last minute ones from gas stations and thrift stores. Before the fire, Sam had experienced a birthday party and proper family celebrations whilst Chrissie was unlucky. Stashing away the sharp weapon, the eldest wandered over to his sister.

"You should color that clown picture and give it to Sammy" smirked the seventeen year old, peeking over her shoulder.

Chrissie shook her head and pointed out simply. "He no like clowns."

Her brother chuckled and ruffled her hair.

"Wanna get some ice cream runt?" he asked.

Chrissie whipped her head around and nodded gleefully before sliding off the chair she was sitting on. Grabbing Goober she made her way to the door until her brother halted her.

"Whoa kiddo you can't go out in public in your pyjamas," he reminded the five year old. "You need to get dressed first."

She wriggled into the only dress she owned, a simple navy pinafore, that accompanied her yellow turtleneck sweater and battered t-bar mary-janes with white socks. Her crazy waves were tied into bunches. Patiently she waited for her brother at the door, hugging Goober to her chest and swaying on her heels.

The ice cream parlour was in walking distance to the motel and it took the siblings a five minutes to get there. Chrissie was in awe of the vast selection of ice creams flavours on scanning the menu the pair were given on sitting at their table at the window. One ice cream caught the infant's eye in particular. Named "Ice-Cream Mountain", it consisted of three scoops of vanilla; three scoops of strawberry, diced strawberry pieces, white chocolate chunks, whipped cream and strawberry sauce and a milk chocolate stick as decoration. This was the ice cream the little girl stabbed her finger at.

"Please may I's get's this one Deanie" she said politely.

The teenager gawped at the description with gluttonous lust. He had merely chosen a plain "Banana Split" but he had competition when it came to appetite. He grinned at his sister.

"I don't see why not," he replied. "It _is _your birthday."

Once devouring the ice cream sundae, Chrissie was ready for an afternoon nap. The child woke just after Sam returned from school. The rest of the day was spent watching rented movies and teaching Chrissie how to play "Snap" with the deck of cards they owned. Dinner was a trip to a near by McDonalds to which Chrissie was delighted in retrieving a small colourful plastic toy from her kid's meal. Her brothers were trying their best to make the day special even though the little girl was aware of her father's absence. Back at the motel, the three siblings turned on the crackling radio and danced about the room. Chrissie loved it when Dean waltzed about with her and spun her around like in one of those Disney princess movies. Sam became her shaggy haired steed as he carried her on his back, neighing in order to hear her heart warming laugh. At the end of the day, Chrissie was worn out with all the fun she had experienced and was out for the count once being tucked into bed.

That night, none of the siblings saw the strange man at the entrance to the child's bedroom. His long trench coat silhouetted in the shadows, soulful blue eyes highlighted by the moonlight. The man stood there until morning, guarding over the littlest Winchester as she slept in her bed.

**Please review**

_**Any requests or ideas just PM me and I'll answer back.**_


	21. The Closet Monster

**Chrissie can't sleep. She explains her reason.**

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Chrissie bolted upright in her sleep. Eyes like saucers, fearfully glancing over at the closet at the other side of her room. The five year old clutched her teddy bear Goober close to her chest, before huddling under her bed sheets. She had discovered two thing about Uncle Bobby's house. One, it was creepy at night and everything creaked and moaned. Two, that was when the monster that lived in her closet became hungry. A sudden squawk from a raven outside spooked the little girl, causing her to clamber out of bed. Chrissie scuttled about in the dark with her stuffed toy until she found the room her big brothers shared. The boys were startled by the sound of distressed whimpers and the sound of their bedroom door squeaking open.

The eldest of the three siblings switched the bedside lamp on, and was greeted by his baby sister who was pulling at his free arm.

"Chrissie?," asked the seventeen year old noticing the infant's tear streaked face. "Sweetheart what's wrong?"

The child pouted and continued to yank her brother's arm. Something was upsetting her.

"The monster's gonna eat me," sniffled Chrissie. "Tell him to go away Deanie."

"What monster?" asked her brother.

"The one in my closet," replied Chrissie. "He scary."

Thirteen year old Sam climbed out of his own bed and travelled towards his sister. The poor thing was shivering.

"He tried to eat Goober, Sammy," said Chrissie in a serious tone. "But I saved him."

"That was very brave of you," returned the middle sibling. "I'm sure Goober is very grateful."

The child glanced at the teddy bear that was tucked under her arm and gave the toy a small smile. She nodded at her brother. The thirteen year old took hold of the child's hand and allowed her to lead him into her bedroom. The eldest followed close by. It was probably just her imagination again, but Dean couldn't afford to be wrong. The older teenager pushed the closet door open slowly. He turned his head around and noticed a trembling Chrissie was hiding behind Sam, hugging his right leg.

"Mr Monster, on behalf of my sister Chrissie," began the eldest, secretly embarrassed that he was talking to nothing. "I request that you don't eat her. Cos if you try any of your crap again, me and her brother Sammy will kick your butt. And yeah, it is a threat. So are ya gonna leave her alone?"

There was a pause. Chrissie peered at the closet from behind her brother and gulped nervously. She could see the monster nod it's large scaly head, before it's red eyes dimmed and disappeared altogether. Cautiously, the little girl ventured over to her big brother. She gazed up at him with awe and adoration in her bright green eyes.

"You my hero," beamed Chrissie. "You made the monster go away. Thanks you."

The infant rewarded her hero with a leg crushing hug. Boldly, Chrissie then stepped into the closet and blew a raucous raspberry. The brothers laughed.

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**Please review**


	22. Forever Blowing Bubbles

**A shout out to kissacazador, HSMSupernatural, zanita475 and Soccerchick6. **

**Thanks for your reviews amigos! *hands out cookies***

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**Chrissie loves bath time .**

Sitting in the bath surrounded by bubbles, Chrissie gazed up at her big brother Dean, who was scrubbing her grimy face from the remnants of strawberry jam and bread crumbs. The five year old wasn't the most elegant when it came to eating sensibly, and the majority of the time she ended up covered in whatever she was devouring. This time is was a large strawberry jam sandwich. The teenager then processed with another bath time ritual.

He soaked the child's hair with lukewarm water, before moving on to shampooing his little sister's fluffy brown hair. Chrissie screwed her eyes shut as her hair was rinsed with an old beaker, cautiously avoiding getting any suds in her eyes. Once it was over and her brother moved onto to massaging lotion into her scalp, the five year old grinned up at him.

"That tickles" giggled the tiny girl.

The seventeen year old smiled at his baby sister. She was completely adorable, her cute expression made his heart swell with pride and love as she continued to titter sweetly. Big green orbs gazed at him attentively, causing his smile to spread wider.

"Sing the Bubble Song, Deanie," said Chrissie. "Please."

The elder sibling rolled his eyes fondly at her as he lifted up a mountain of bubbles with his hands. He cleared his throat before blowing at the bubble mountain, resulting in them fluttering around his baby sister. Even though he wasn't the world's best singer, his voice captivated the five year old as he sang out a simple melody:

_I'm forever blowing bubbles_

_Pretty bubbles in the air._

_They fly so high._

_Nearly reach the sky._

_But then they fall_

_And fade and die._

_Bubbles I keep blowing_

_Bubbles here and there._

_I'm forever blowing bubbles_

_Pretty bubbles in the air._

Chrissie watched as the last bubble popped and she beamed up at her big brother with an countenance of adoration. Once releasing the plug, allowing the water to make it's grand exit, the teenager scooped up the little girl in a clean white towel. He planted her onto the ground and began drying her off.

"Well, my special girl," said the teen with a smile, as he ruffled the child's hair with the towel. "You are now clean and gorgeous."

Chrissie tilted her head endearingly as she focused on her brother, she smiled amiably, her hair a wild and wet mop. Clutching onto the towel that was bundled around her small skinny frame, the little girl uttered bashfully:

"Your gorgeous too, Deanie"

The statement made the elder sibling chuckle. He and the child shared a gentle Eskimo Kiss, by nuzzling each other's noses in a gesture of affection.

"That's a change for what you usually say," replied Dean. "I'm normally ugly in your words."

The infant giggled once again before hugging her brother's head. The child the processed to wriggling into her pyjamas independently. Little did she know that her love of bath time would be short lived. Soon, the child would never sit in a full bath tub again. A phobia was about to brew.

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**A truthful statement from Chrissie wouldn't you guys say :D **

**Each time I watch the show I'm armed with the smelling salts. As my friend *Ruby calls him, BUFFNESS. Even my own mother agrees. **

**Hope you guys in the States enjoy the premiere of Season 7. Here in the UK we are half way through Season 6, annoyingly. We will have to wait months until we get to see it. **

**Though since using this site I'm exposed to spoilers so I'm gonna find a way to watch the new season online somehow. I already know what happens at the end of the last season. Also I can't be assed waiting again. **

**I wish it was broadcasted the same time like with Doctor Who.**

**Anyways I'm rambling.**

**Please review if you want a cookie :D**


	23. Origins of a Phobia

**This wee story has now reached 50 reviews! Get in there! (in translation from Scots- Awesome)**

***dances to Eye of the Tiger whilst throwing a confetti parade* **

**Thank you guys! Your support really means the world to me. It has made me so happy to think that people like and enjoy this story. **

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**Retrieving something can sometimes lead to danger**

A mass of colorful crayons spilled over a dusty table, paper littered the once nicely polished oak. Goober the teddy bear sat on one of the four chairs surrounding the table, lifeless against the cushions that he was propped up against. Button eyes gazed blindly towards his owner in front of him, a small stitched mouth pulled into a forever lopsided smile.

The awkward looking toy's owner confronted the bear with a grin that stretched from ear to ear, almost making her ears wiggle.

The little girl continued to color her masterpiece, which appeared to be a peculiar version of the beloved family car and a melon headed figure with a black scribbled torso and blue legs. As Chrissie applied the finishing touches, tongue sticking out her tiny pink mouth in concentration, the child was aware of a presence next to her.

She whipped head around, only to be greeted by her big brother, Dean. The seventeen year old had slid into the neighbouring chair and had been watching his baby sister unravel her artistic side. She looked happy and tranquil whenever she was playing. Both siblings stared into each others identical green eyes, the five year old then passed the teenager her drawing.

"I drew this for you, Deanie," stated Chrissie with a beaming smile. "It's you and the Pala." She stabbed a finger at the representation of the 67' Chevrolet Impala. "See."

The elder sibling grinned and chuckled. The child was expressing great skill with a pencil and crayon, especially for someone so young.

"Well, this is going straight on the refrigerator," replied the elder sibling. "That way everybody can see your brilliant drawing."

Chrissie's grin almost sliced her face as she swelled with pride. Her brother ruffled her hair.

"It's a nice day," added Dean, indicating outside. "Why don't you and Goober play outside."

"Okay," returned the five year old, clambering out of the chair, holding the stuffed toy's paw. "C'mon Goober, we play outside now."

Dean watched his fluffy haired baby sister bound out the back door from the kitchen. The rental house the small family was residing in wasn't the most welcoming and warm place. It had been years since someone was last living in the crumbling house. Regardless to the state of the house, the lake that stretched beside it made it picturesque.

Chrissie travelled two metres away from the porch, she then stared up at the blue sky, and subconsciously waved up for some reason, before returning her attention on her odd toy in her hand. Child and bear lay on the grass and gazed up at the clouds in a trance like state, the infant gabbed the occasional sentence or two. Minutes later, the five year old was rolling about the ground and imitating a tiger. Her knobbly knees and short denim overalls by that time were smeared with grass stains. After her animal game, Chrissie attempted to pursue her goal in achieving a full cartwheel. Little did she know she was being watched.

The eldest of the Winchester litter was busy watching his sister perform her mediocre cartwheels, he was then joined by his thirteen year old brother.

"She's getting better," smirked Sam, observing his tumbling younger sibling. He and his brother then laughed heartily as they saw her pressing her toy to copy her actions. "Look at her. She really does believe the bear is real."

The laughter then subsided as the brothers returned to the studying their father had assigned them. Once again, the siblings were alone without their only parent.

Chrissie grunted in annoyance as she failed yet again to perfect the art of cartwheels, with a pout she glowered down at her feet, arms crossed. Suddenly a soccer ball rolled out in front of her. She was surprised as it appeared out of thin air. Soon she was gleefully kicking and dribbling the ball about, inching closer towards the jetty beside the lake. Once the child stopped for breathe, the ball bounced along the wooden jetty and plopped into the water.

"Oh no!" gasped Chrissie, tottering after the escaped ball, her sneaker clad feet clumping on the creaking wood.

The five year old squatted down and scanned the situation. She had to get the ball back, but she had to be very careful. A short arm and tiny fingers reached out for the ball that was drifting further away. Suddenly a violent shove from an invisible assailant resulted in the little girl plunging head first into the water.

"Hey, Sammy," asked Dean. "Call Chrissie in for lunch will ya."

The thirteen year old nodded and went outside and stood on the back porch. What puzzled him was the lone teddy bear laying on the grass. Chrissie wasn't there.

"Chrissie?" called Sam, collecting the bear. "Chrissie, c'mon it's lunch."

His brother appeared beside him and also called out. Both were worried that she had wandered from her boundary point. The brothers trekked around the house, searching for their sister. Still no sign. That was until Sam noticed something bobbing in the lake, next to the jetty. Then the penny dropped.

"I've found her!," stated a panic stricken Sam. "She's in the water!"

His brother followed his gaze and the pair began charging towards the lake, shrieking her name. The duo darted along the aging jetty and was confronted by a horrifying sight. Their precious baby sister was floating in the water, completely motionless. Sam could only watch as his seventeen year old sibling dived in for the youngest, the water swimming up to his waist.

The child was scooped up by a pair of strong arms, and cradled into the soaking wet chest of her big brother as he hurried out the shallow section of the lake.

"Sammy, call 911, hurry!" command the eldest as he placed his sister on the ground.

The middle sibling raced of to make the important emergency call as Dean checked her vitals. She wasn't breathing and her lips were an awful shade of blue. He listened to her chest, a heart beat was found but it was much too slow for his liking.

"Shit!" cursed the teenager, running his fingers through his hair. He then pressed two fingers against her neck, a faint pulse was detected.

This had to be a cruel prank. This wasn't funny he privately screamed to God. His hand traced the delicate facial structure of the unconscious little girl. A lump bloated in his throat and tears stung in the back of his eyes.

"Chrissie?," he whispered into her ear. "Sweetheart, can you hear me."

No response was given to his fraught appeal He couldn't lose his little Chrissie, not after the nightmarish death of his mother five years previous. As he performed mouth to mouth, he begged God to cut him some slack. Nobody was stealing his baby away from him. Not now, not ever.

"C'mon, baby, wake up," pleaded the distressed teen between desperate breathes. "Please wake up."

His wish was granted as an abrupt splutter signalled sign of life within the fragile body of his sister. Water gushed out of her mouth as she coughed and choked, chest heaving under the pressure. Her brother thumped her back to relieve the discomforting pain, hoping it would unclog trapped water.

The water passed, then out came the wail. Frightened sobs ravaged the tiny frame. She immediately clung onto her big brother for comfort, fat tears streamed down her gray tinged face. Fingers curled around the wet material of her brother's t-shirt. It was like a howl of a newborn baby on being delivered into the world. The teenager smoothed her dripping hair and flicked her saturated bangs out of her seeping eyes, planting kisses on her head, that was nestled into his collar.

"D-d-dea-n-n-n-nie" whimpered the distraught little girl, never ending tears oozing from her bright green orbs.

The teenager held the weeping child close to his hammering heart, internally grateful that she had been spared.

"Ssssh, sweetheart," he hushed. "I'm here. Don't be scared. Your gonna be okay."

During the course of seventeen years, Dean had established several fears. Chrissie was still relatively new to the world and had been exposed to fear. She was scared of the dark and the Pink Elephants sequence from _Dumbo_. This incident was the start of a new phobia, one that she would carry for years to come. No matter how hard she tried, she would never forget that moment of terror. Neither would her brothers. For that was the day they nearly lost her to the reapers.

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**Now you know where Chris's phobia of water comes from. But do you think the incident was an accident? That is the question.**

**What do you think John would say when he turns up in the aftermath? Who do you think will get the brunt of his wrath? Nevertheless Chrissie will witness the chaos.**

**If you have an idea or request then just PM me and something can be arranged. **

**Please review :D**


	24. World's Worst Brother

**In the aftermath of Chrissie's accident, John confronts his eldest.**

* * *

Murals of rainbows and dragons illustrated the walls surrounding the paediatric ward at the hospital, several children huddled under their blankets as they lay in their allocated beds. Chrissie glanced around fearfully at the other children around her, several were hooked onto machines that helped them breathe or maintained their heart beat. The five year old curled under her covers, holding the stiff white sheets close to her fragile chest, eyes wide with trepidation. After falling head first into the lake and almost drowning, the poor child seemed to be a shadow of herself. It was as if she had become a calm and had shut herself out from the rest of the world. Maybe it was her way of coping with the ordeal that had put the fear of God into her.

Her thirteen year old brother, Sam, who was sitting patiently at her bedside, could only gaze at his baby sister and worry about what could have happened if he and his older brother arrived at the scene too late. The idea sent shivers down the teenager's spine and he hastily shoved the thought into the very back of his mind, deep in the dark shadows. He couldn't lose another loved one, not since losing his mother at eight years old. The pain was still raw inside, and this incident had brought it all flooding back. Tears clouded his vision but he forced them back as any sign of weakness would only cause Chrissie more distress. Chrissie noticed her brother's angst and gazed up at him with her radiant green eyes, bottom lip stuck out in a trembling pout. She wriggled across the bed and wrapped her skinny arms around her big brother, patting his back in an act of comfort.

* * *

_Blood trickled down ten year old Sam's knee, the large cut had been the result of trying to vault the fence outside, only it hadn't went according to plan. Instead, the boy went flying over but catching his knee on a ragged corner of the wood. _

_Now he sat at the bottom of the stairs, glancing at his injury, feeling sorry for himself with fat tears dripping down his face. He was crying because his Dad scolded him for messing up a simple vault. Life wasn't fun anymore, he wanted his Mom but knew that was impossible._

_The sound of small clumpy footsteps caused the boy to lift his head from his hands. Before him stood his two year old baby sister. Chrissie, dressed in scruffy overalls and a dinky red t-shirt, squatted down and gazed at her big brother with curious eyes and an endearing head tilt._

"_You kay, Hammy?," she asked. "You cwying. Why you cwying?"_

"_Yeah, I'm okay Chrissie," sniffed the boy sadly. "I just cut my knee. It's a bad cut."_

_The toddler looked at the wound and wrinkled her nose at she inspected it further. _

"_Dat a bad cut," she commented adorably. "Bad cut."_

_She then placed her tiny hand over her brother's uninjured knee, and patted it gently. For a two year old, the compassion and love the toddler expressed was no doubt a beacon of light to the upset ten year old._

"_Der now," added the toddler. "You no cwy. No cwy. You bwave boy. No baby."_

_The boy smiled weakly at his baby sister._

* * *

As the little girl consoled her sibling, her father and eldest brother were outside the ward, watching from behind the door. John was amazed at his little girl's sense of loyalty and empathy, how could someone so young convey such emotions. It was clear that his only daughter shared her late mother's nurturing spirit. John bit down on his bottom lip fiercely, drawing blood in the process.

"Tell me again," he asked his eldest son. "What happened."

Seventeen year old Dean, gulped as he confronted his obviously pissed father.

"I told you, Chrissie was playing outside and somehow she ended up in the lake" explained the older teenager.

John nodded his head slightly before marching his son down the corridor and pushing him into the men's restroom. Rage exploded within John and he grabbed his son's t-shirt and crushing him against one of the cubicles. Guilt was evident within his eldest child's green eyes, his expression sorrowful and pleading. John rattled him into the cubicle several times before squeezing his son's jaw with vice like fingers.

"Do you have any idea what could've happened to your sister?," he growled menacingly. His grip tightened, causing the teen to wince slightly in discomfort. A thunderous exclamation erupted from the man "Do you!"

The teen quivered in shock as his father continued his tightened his grip on his jaw, the bone creaking under the pressure.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry" implored the teenager in heartfelt misery

"You should've been watching her, taking care of her. It's your job!" hissed John angrily.

Dean had reached the end of his tether with his father. Those words stung like a thousand killer bees.

"Am I responsible for everything in this damn family!," he declared in a broken yet firm tone. "Why is it my job. I'm not her father. _You _are. You go on about responsibly, Dad, so why don't you take some responsibility for this family too, for fuck sake!"

With that statement, John realised his fingers from his son's jaw, only to suddenly backhand the boy. Dean recoiled in astonishment at his father's action, he could sense blood in his mouth, before noting the small cut on his lower lip caused by the harsh slap. The strength of the slap had even forced him onto the ground.

John glared at his boy before hauling him onto his feet and ramming him against the cubicle once again.

"Never use that tone with me, boy," threatened John, eyes burning into that of his son's. A cruel statement uttered from the older man, chilling words that haunted his son's damaged ego "This is all your fault."

That declaration stabbed into the boy's heart, increasing the remorse and torment. Dean hitched his shaking breathe as he gazed at his father with crestfallen eyes.

"You don't need to remind me, Dad" he whispered brokenly, tears stinging at the back of his eyes.

John glanced at him for a second before letting him go. Without even looking at him, John shoved him rudely away.

"Get outta my sight," he grunted. "I can't even look at you."

Dean didn't need a second telling. The teenager slowly left the restroom, nursing his wounded self esteem before he fled the wards and found sanctuary within a disabled restroom. The seventeen year old could feel the barricade holding back his repressed emotions buckling. His chest tightened as he slammed and locked the door, his vision growing cloudier and cloudier. Soon the barricade was destroyed, sending the young hunter into despair as his back collided with the door. Tears streamed freely as he slid down the door, quiet sobs racking his frame. Pulling his knees to his aching chest, and folding his arms around them, the teen rested his head as he continued to cry.

He had screwed up. He was a disappointment to his father, and had put his precious baby sister in peril, that could've easily resulted in death. The image of his mother appeared in his mind which caused his heart to splitter further.

"I try so hard, Mom," he whispered through his tears. "I just want to keep her safe, like you told me. But I messed up. I'm so sorry. I failed you."

The tears thickened and flowed more openly as the distraught teenager broken down completely. The words of his father terrorising him and the image of his baby sister floating in the water. He was glad he was alone during this process as his siblings would only get upset and pester him with questions on his emotions.

"I'm the world's worst brother" he wept.

* * *

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	25. Violence, Tears and Vigils

**The family cope in the aftermath of Chrissie's accident, John continues his punishment.**

* * *

Silence had fallen as the small family returned from the hospital later that evening. The staff at the hospital wanted to keep the youngest member in over night for observation, yet John objected and discharged his daughter himself, regardless to the doctor's orders.

As John drove home, he glanced back and forth in the rear view mirror at his children, who were huddled together in the back seat. Chrissie, who was wrapped up in a soft green blanket, sat nestled into her eldest brother's side, her eyes almost vacant as she sucked her thumb. Throughout the journey John had been avoiding his eldest's gaze, probably unaware that his harsh actions and words triggered his son's breakdown. Then again, his son wouldn't dare broadcast that fact as it declared weakness.

As soon as the car arrived back at the cabin house, John turned off the ignition and glanced back at his younger son.

"Sammy, take your sister in beside you tonight," instructed John. "Make sure you settle her if she wakes during the night. It wouldn't surprise me if she suffers nightmares but just reassure her and she'll go back to sleep." He then added with a serious tone. "Don't let me down."

On his last statement, John shot his eldest a quick yet cruel glare. Sam noticed this, causing him concern and caution as he knew conflict was brewing between his father and brother.

The youth was nervous, this amount of responsibility was technically new to him. Sure he helped in looking after his sister but that job mainly belonged to his brother. The thirteen year old knew his father was blaming Dean for Chrissie's accident and was simply punishing him by placing Chrissie in someone else's care. Since the age of twelve, Dean had become his baby sister's whole world since the death of their mother. John was consumed by obsessive revenge and grief to even notice his young boys raising their six month old baby sister. It was like a punch in the gut to the older teenager.

"Yes, sir" replied Sam obediently even though he wanted to yell at him.

The brothers swapped an identical pained expression as their gaze went from each other to their little sister.

She let out a whimper as Sam began to ease her away from Dean, eyes watering as they searched for an explanation on why he wasn't fighting for her. The bewildered and frightened expression that was painted on her freckled face broke her brothers' hearts. It was like trying to remove a Koala Bear from an Eucalyptus tree, the child refused to let go. She continued to fight against her middle sibling who was prizing her away with success, timid squeaks and squeals signalled her upset. The five year old reached out for her hero in vain as she found herself moving further and further away from him, a realisation she didn't like at all.

Soon she was being held in Sam's wiry arms, the struggling continued. Sam turned away from his brother in an attempt to stop Chrissie battling with him, but it made it worse. The child persisted to reach out for her big brother, tiny hands grasping out for contact. Distraught, the little girl began to cry.

"Take you sister inside," commanded the ex marine. "_Now_."

Sam felt terrible as he was the one taking Chrissie away from her adored idol. Yet for Dean, the pain at hearing and watching his baby sob out for him was almost unbearable.

Every fibre in his body wanted to embrace the howling child, but this was his punishment and he had to learn his lesson, no matter how much heartache it caused him.

"Go with Sammy, honey" he told her.

The wails of the child soon grew fainter and fainter as the duo disappeared into the house. John slammed the door shut as he climbed out of the driver's seat, then processing to yanking his son out of the vehicle also. He sneered at him and let out a nasty chuckle.

"At least you didn't fuck up with the mouth to mouth," commented John. "You nailed that part. Still, if you had been watching her, then maybe you wouldn't have needed to do so." He glared at his son before shoving him in the direction of the house. "Now get inside," he spat. "I'll be back in a few hours. Watch your brother and sister, and just make sure your brother doesn't get attacked by a witch again and that your sister doesn't drown. If you fuck up once more, you'll be for it, boy."

Dean could only watch as his father speed away into the night. Probably in search of a bar the teenager reckoned. The seventeen year old slowly wandered back into the house.

* * *

Travelling up the creaking stairs, he could hear his younger brother trying to comfort the youngest. On opening the bedroom door he saw a sight that cause his heart to break even more.

Chrissie was hugging her beloved teddy bear against her chest, eyes oozing never-ending tears that spurted down her tomato red face. The five year old was curled into a tiny ball, shoulders convulsing as the poor thing sobbed her heart out.

"Don't cry, Chrissie," pleaded Sam, also in tears. "Please don't cry."

The middle sibling then noticed his brother's presence and gazed at him with a tearful expression. The younger teenager's hand rubbed soothing circles on the child's quivering back.

"She won't stop crying" he choked out.

The seventeen year old sat on the bed next to Sam and gave him a small pat on the shoulder in an act of solace. It reminded him of the first night without their mother and Chrissie was restless. Eight year old Sam was mirrored in the form he was in now, desperate and upset in seeing his sibling in distress. The older teen then rested his hand on the child's head, stroking her fluffy brown hair with his fingers, a sensation that caused her to gazed up.

Her grip on the toy loosened before she threw herself into her eldest brother's arms and burying her face into his collar bone. Several minutes later, she pushed herself to look at him, eyes still brimming with fat tears. Since the accident, she hadn't uttered a word . Now, seven hours later, she had found her lost voice.

"I-I-I-I s-s-sorr-r-ry" wept Chrissie, breathe hitching.

The tear drops that glided down her cheeks were captured by the pads of her big brother's thumbs.

"For what?" asked the older teenager as he held her delicate face in his hands.

"For c-c-c-c-r-r-rying," hiccupped Chrissie, wiping her running nose with the back of her hand. "D-D-Daddy s-s-says I-I-I has t-t-to be b-brave,

I n-not brave if I-I cry."

The brothers glanced at each other before returning their attention on their sister.

"Daddy's wrong to tell you that, sweetheart" said Dean, smoothing the child's hair. "You're the bravest and most beautiful little girl in the whole wide world. Nothing will ever changed that."

Chrissie's face crumpled once more and she dug her face into his chest, weeping like a toddler.

"Ssssh, baby, it's okay," he hushed, hugging her close to his shattering heart. "Everything will be better in the morning, you'll see."

* * *

Within an hour or so, Chrissie was sound asleep in her big brother's arms, worn out by emotion and exhaustion. Kisses were planted on her forehead as she was tucked underneath the bed sheets.

"It wasn't you fault," said Sam after a minute of silence. "Dad can say whatever the hell he wants but he wasn't there. He never is. Even now, he's gone."

"Dad's words are like the Gospels, you know that," replied the older teen. "If you fuck up, if something happens under your watch, sure as hell it's your fault."

Sam, as always, thought different from his strict father.

"It was an accident," remarked the thirteen year old, his annoyance and anger for his father growing. "You can't beat yourself up for something that was an accident. You shouldn't let him bully you into thinking that way."

Silence once again fell upon the siblings, their vigil on their baby sister continued into the night.

* * *

Around 1 am Chrissie woke with a start, sobbing hysterically about being stuck under the water with the fish, she had gotten so upset that she had wet herself. An hour later, the same nightmare caused the child to cry out for her brothers. She finally settled down again around 3.30 am, falling into slumber once again. It didn't take Sam long to follow close behind. Half an hour later, Dean was aware of a rattling coming from downstairs, cautiously he ventured downstairs to investigate. A hissing of a curse word identified the stranger as the youth made it off the final step, before switching on the main light. It was John.

Dean rolled his eyes as his father slugged forward. John noticed him. He didn't like the expression his eldest bore.

"What the hell are you looking at," slurred John, lurching towards his son. "Think all you want about me, boy, but it won't make a blind bit of difference. You fucked up. Again."

The older man was having a hard time maintaining his balance, his vision was blurred and almost cross eyed. John supported himself on the wooden banister.

"Your mother will be spinning in her grave," added John. He then pushed Dean to the side as he attempted to climb the staircase. Dean halted him. John was furious. "Move. I wanna see my daughter."

Dean stood his ground, arms folded across his chest.

"No, Dad," he said defiantly. "Your not going anywhere near her. Not in this state. Your staying away from her."

John tried again to get past his son but was stopped once more.

This re-ignited John's fury, the tension in the air increased dramatically. The drunken hunter grabbed his son by his t-shirt and shoved him roughly onto the floor.

"I can do whatever the fuck I want," growled John straddling his son and grasping his wrists. "Your not her father, _I _am."

Noise had woken Chrissie this time, something was making an awful racket downstairs. Curious, the five year old padded out of the bedroom and toddled over to the banister and peeked through. She tilted her head and frowned at what she saw.

Alcohol polluted the breathe of the older man as he wrestled with his teenage son. He had hoped the boy would be more submissive but then he forgotten how well he was training him in the art of combat.

The seventeen year old glowered up at his inebriated father, determined not to let his father win.

"Does this make you feel like more of a man?," queried the teen. "You say I'm a screw up, but you need to look at yourself, Dad. _You're _the screw up! Chrissie deserves so much more than this life, she deserves a better father!"

With that statement, John balled an iron fist and brought it into contact with the side of his son's temple, causing the boy to reel and grunt with impact. Suddenly a yelp from upstairs made them look up. Chrissie was peering through the banister, and by her reaction, had seen and heard everything. John stumbled onto his feet, gazing up at the shocked child.

"Hey, Chrissie," he cooed, his fierce expression had changed into a composed one. "C'mon down, sweetie, and Daddy will tell you a bedtime story."

Chrissie looked down at her big brother, now sporting a black eye. She didn't respond to her father, to his outrage and disappointment. Dean rose to his feet and pushed past his father.

"Stay there, sweetheart," the teenager said, trying to sound positive in front of her. He added with a flicker of a smile "Daddy and I were only arguing, I just hit my face on the floor."

Chrissie knew what had happened. They were fighting, like the bad guys on those movies with big guns. Chrissie had always been graced by wisdom beyond her years, so she was all to aware of the violence that had happened before her eyes. She quickly looked down at her disgruntled father before vanishing into the bedroom with her big brother. Daddy had shouted and swore at her Dean. Daddy had hit her Dean. For the first time in her short life, she was scared of her own father. Next time, if anybody tried to hurt her hero, she would kick them square in their doodle, regardless to height or age. Nobody hurt her Dean, not while she was around.

That night, Chrissie kept her own private vigil over her sleeping brothers, guarding the door from her big bad Daddy. She would be ready if he came back. Tiny hands petted each of her brothers individual hair styles, and peaks on their cheeks signalled the little girl's love for them. Once she settled down, nestled in between them, her eyes slowly closed. Slumber captured her and sent her into a security that also granted her peace.

* * *

A figure stood at the foot of the bed, staring intently on the sleeping siblings. Blues eyes illuminated by the silver moonlight that bounced off the lapels of his tan trench coat. The mysterious stranger took over the vigil, motionless like a statue bar the occasional blinking of his ancient eyes. Completely silent, Completely invisible.

* * *

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	26. On Top of The World

**Emotions run riot and a father and son confront each other once again**

* * *

John sat at the wooden table that was situated in the middle of the kitchen, staring dumbly at the wedding band fused on his finger. The sound of padded feet shuffling behind cased him to turn his head. It was his small daughter, who had frozen at the mere sight of him.

The events of the previous day had caused her trauma and witnessing her father's drunken violence against her eldest brother, only made matters worse. Chrissie always bore an adorable appearance, mornings in particular as her hair had a tendency to be wild and fluffy. The little girl stood in silence, clutching her beloved companion Goober under her arm. She was dressed in one of her brother's old flannel t-shirt since she had wet herself the night before, the material was extremely baggy and it slipped at the shoulders, exposing the bare skin. It was a wonder she didn't trip up as it was oversized compared to her tiny, skinny frame.

"Good morning," said John gingerly, a flicker of a hopeful smile. "Did you sleep well?"

Chrissie didn't respond, her eyes blank. The five year old toddled past, ignoring her father as she ventured towards the refrigerator. She pulled out a large carton of orange juice and placed it on the worktop carefully. John watched her attempt at reaching up for the cabinet which involved her afterwards, trying to climb up onto the worktop. John pushed himself to intervene.

"Lemme get that for you, baby," said John, in endeavour to be as gentle as possible. He reached and grabbed a tumbler which he poured the orange citrus liquid into. Handing it to his daughter, his voice gruff from his alcoholic binge, he said in addition "Here."

The child hugged her teddy bear tightly under her skinny arm, glancing at it for reassurance. She took the tumbler and drained it completely within several seconds. Without meeting his gaze, Chrissie shoved it back into his hands. Sadly, John knew his actions last night must have broken the somewhat limited bond he had with his only daughter. Swallowing his repressed emotions as if it were a golf ball, the ex marine levelled himself with his little girl.

"Chrissie," he began. "I'm sorry for what you saw last night. Daddy was just upset about your accident."

His words were falling on deaf ears. Chrissie, although young, saw right into her father's mind. She knew her cherished eldest brother was getting the blame and since it made her father cross, her brother received a punishment. People who do bad things must get punished, a logic she had been raised on ever since she learned how to walk and talk. John could see a pout protruding on the child's lips.

"Sweetheart…please, look at me" pleaded John, desperate for his child to reply to him.

He reached out for contact and as soon as his fingers grazed her arm, the five year old let out a petrified squeak as she recoiled from his touch. With her teddy bear comrade in the crook of her arm, Chrissie fled the kitchen and bolted up the stairs, soft whimpers quivering from her larynx. John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head gloomily. His own daughter was scared of him.

Just as Dean was zipping the fly on his jeans, he was startled by the bedroom door swinging open and to see his little sister charging in. The seventeen year old almost lost his balance as Chrissie tackled his legs at full force.

"Whoa, kiddo, slow down. You about knocked me over," he chuckled. His brow then furrowed as he noticed the tears rolling down her angelic freckled face. He crouched down on his haunches once he wriggled out of her koala grasp, hands cupping her cheeks in a consoling manner. "Sweetheart, what wrong? Why are you crying?"

The little girl strangled out a terrified sob as she gripped onto her bear. Her green eyes leaked a fountain worth of salty moisture as she gazed at her brother.

"I scared" she wept, bottom lip trembling.

Her brother gazed at her with a deep sense of sorrow as he swatted at the tears that glided down his baby sister's face.

"Why?" queried the teenager, an expression of deep concern etched on his features.

"Daddy" replied Chrissie before letting out a barrage of sobs that racked her frame.

The seventeen year old pulled the heartbroken child into his bare chest and held her in an warm and secure embrace, rubbing her back soothingly as she cried in his arms. The distraught little girl was then scooped up as her brother moved over to the bed, and was then perched on his knee. A tiny hand traced the black eye that the teen was now sporting as a fashion accessory, a gift token from their father.

"Why did Daddy hit you?" sniffed Chrissie innocently.

"You don't need to worry about that, baby," answered her brother, smoothing her hair. "He had been drinking beer again. Daddy get's cross when he's been drinking. He was also upset about the scare you gave us."

Chrissie wiped her nose on the sleeve of the baggy t-shirt, thinking about the previous day's incident. Her red rimmed eyes brimming with unshed teardrops.

"Did I scare you?" asked Chrissie.

"Yeah, you did," commented the teenager truthfully. "But your safe now, and that's all that matters. Nothing is gonna steal you away from me. Who else will draw me pictures and wake me up in the mornings?"

Chrissie paused for a second, contemplating on her brother's statement, until she realised it was her he was talking about. She bowed her head as the wobbling pout returned.

"Hey, it's okay," assured Dean, begging for the tears to stop. "C'mon now, your breakin' my heart."

Fresh tears flowed down the five year old's cheeks, abrupt hiccups caused her to jerk.

"I sorry, Deanie," wept the little girl through hiccups. "I sorry I scared you. I no mean to. The ball runned away and I wanted it back. It fall in water, then I fall in water. I sorry. I sorry. I no mean to break you heart. I sorry."

Closing his eyes in a bid to shut out the heart aching wails of his baby sister, Dean could only rock her on his knee.

"Ssssssh," he hushed comfortingly. "It was an accident. A bad accident. You have nothing to apologise for, sweetheart."

The siblings continued to embrace, and at that moment they were joined by the middle sibling, clean from the shower. Sam raised a worried eyebrow at his older brother, indicating the weeping youngster. Dean only offered a broken smile.

"Hey, Chrissie," said the younger teenager, gently. "Goober told me he would like a tea party. He's invited me and you to join him. Wanna go?"

The brothers waited for the child to respond. Chrissie glanced at her stuffed friend, then to Sam. With an eager head nod, Goober received a positive reply.

"C'mon then, let's get ready" Sam smiled slightly as Chrissie hopped off the eldest's knee and grasped his hand.

* * *

Nobody could attend Goober's tea parties dressed like a scruffy street urchin. Chrissie's hair had been tied into lopsided bunches with mini scrunches and was wearing her Elmo t-shirt and spotty leggings. As she and Sam sat on the carpet of the bedroom, Chrissie curled her sock clad toes as pretend cakes and cookies were passed around.

"Oh no!," declared Chrissie in horror, hands moving to her mouth in a comical fashion. "Goober! You got a worm sandwich! You can't eat worms. That's yucky!"

Sam stifled a laugh as his sister expressed her enthusiastic imagination. The giggles that filtered through the air compared to the sobs from before were much more soothing.

"You need more tea, Sammy" commented Chrissie, pouring out an imaginary cup of tea.

The thirteen year old smiled. Hopefully things were looking up, even though he knew the repercussions of the day before will lurk around for sometime.

* * *

John hadn't moved from the kitchen all morning, he needed time to review the situation he had dumped himself into. It was only when a stone jawed Dean wandered in, that John found the courage to confront him.

"Listen, son, about yesterday" started John.

He was cut off by his eldest who turned on him, anger blazing in his green eyes.

"Save it, Dad," snapped Dean. "You said enough yesterday. Hell, you near enough knocked my block off. I can't believe you got drunk last night! Seriously, what the hell! Your daughter needed you! Sam needed you!…"

John had risen from his chair and had wandered over towards his agitated son. The black eye haunted him.

"…_I _needed you."

Dean's voice cracked on the last statement, he inhaled hard as he battled with his bubbling emotions. The teen shook his head and licked his dry lips. He continued:

"I can't believe how selfish you are. For five years I have devoted every single scrap of energy I have into raising _your _daughter. And what's the thanks I get? A damn shiner! I know that kid inside out, I bet you don't even know her favourite color! And you know the worst part, now she's afraid of you! I sacrifice so much for this family and one tiny mistake lands me a beating. What's the logic in that, huh?"

John was torn by his eldest's words but he knew it was necessary. Remorse filled his dark eyes. His hand reached out for his son's face but the youth smacked it away.

"Son, let me explain" pleaded John.

"Explain what exactly? How you're a controlling asshole who thinks that alcohol washes away all your problems. Well it doesn't. Where were you the first Christmas without Mom, huh? You were out getting wasted, forgetting the fact that you left three kids alone in a rundown motel in the bad part of town. What would she think about you now? Maybe it would've been best if social service took us away years ago. We wouldn't have been stuck with you."

His boy was right, alcohol was his way of trying to forget everything that had happened within the past five years. Yet John knew he had left his family morals and values in the shadows and had replaced them with strict rules and gruelling guidelines. Like vomit the torrent of words continued to erupt from the seventeen year old's mouth. Distress riddling his voice:

"I protect those two with every fibre in my body. I would take a freakin' bullet for them. No matter how hard I try, I know for a fact the truth is gonna come out one day. Till the day I die I'm gonna shield those kids from anything dangerous. And if that includes you then so be it."

John could feel his soul blackening on those words. He had slammed the final nail in the coffin and he hoped that there was a way in revitalizing his relationships with his children. Sorrowful eyes gazed into his son.

"Don't think for one damn second that I don't fight for this family. That's all I do. It's all I'll ever do. I do so much and all I ask is for a little gratitude, and after everything that has happened, I get nothing, and do you know how that makes me feel? It makes me.…"

The youth paused and took a shaking breathe yet it did not eliminate the waver in his voice. He balled a fist and held it at his mouth for a second before letting it drop and uttering:

"It makes me feel on top of the world."

A lone tear streaked down the seventeen year old's face, his lips quaking with emotion. Tears also welled in John's eyes, his hand curled around the base of his son's neck. He pressed his forehead against his boy's.

"I'm so sorry" whispered John.

* * *

Two figures watched from between the gaps in the banister. Sam smiled tearfully as he witnessed the unfolding event. Chrissie snuggled into his side and glanced curiously.

"Are Daddy and Dean fighting again?" queried the five year old, her tone worried.

"No, Chrissie," replied her middle sibling. "There not fighting."

* * *

**What do you think of John and Dean's confrontation conclusion? **

**Too soon or just in time before things got worse?**

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	27. The Longest Night

**I wanna shout out to my international cyber buddy, brittpage21. Give her a clap, folks, she helped me spell check this chapter and has given me great ideas for future chapters.**

**Just to let you all know, some of the spelling might seem a bit off for the US readers. I'm used to UK spelling.**

* * *

**Chrissie is haunted by her trauma**

Chrissie peered through the banister, focusing on her eldest brother with her inquisitive stare, her green eyes narrowed as she tilted her head to the side. Something wasn't right. She could hear sniffs drifting from the spot where her father and brother stood. The five year old was puzzled by the scene that was being played out in front of her.

"C'mon, kiddo," urged Sam, gentling nudging her in an attempt to steer her away from the banister. "Let's get back to bed."

Chrissie didn't budge, and she continued to gaze downstairs. Something wasn't right.

"Chrissie, c'mon," repeated her middle sibling. "There's nothing to see."

Chrissie, as stubborn as ever, once again refused to move. Her eyes widened as the sniffs and gulps from downstairs grew louder. Neither of the males were aware that their emotional confrontation had been observed.

"Look at me, son," pleaded John, holding the side of his eldest child's face, eyes etched in sorrow and guilt. The seventeen year old tried to look away, ashamed that he was weeping in front of his father. "Please."

The older teenager gazed miserably at his father, tears dripping from his eyes.

"It wasn't my fault" he uttered, as his father captured a tear drop with the pad of his thumb.

John hushed his son, hating himself over and over again for causing his children so much pain. Suddenly John was winded as a head, literally made of steel, came into contact with the sensitive area around his groin. Startled, John glanced down, regaining his stolen breathe and was taken aback to the sight that was confronting him.

Chrissie had ventured downstairs and had prized herself between the two males before head butting her father in the crotch. The five year old was guarding her elder sibling, resembling an annoyed Jack Russell puppy who was protecting their master from harm. Chrissie glowered up at her father, her large eyes firing deadly daggers, her dainty hands were curled into tight fists that trembled at her side.

"No!" she barked, her voice going squeaky. The child then clung onto her brother's legs, still glaring at her father. "You bad man! You make my Deanie sad. You no make my Deanie sad!"

The older teenager leveled himself with his younger sibling, clearing his face from any sign of tears.

"Chrissie, it's okay" assured the teen, placing comforting hands on the child's shoulders.

"Nuh uh," replied the little girl with a shake of the head, she pointed an accusing finger at her father. "He make you sad. I no like it when you sad. It make me sad."

The serious expression that his baby sister bore caused Dean to chuckle slightly. Her bottom lip was protruding into her famous pout, eyebrows arched into a frown. John glanced at his only daughter sadly as he too leveled himself with the tiny girl, only to be pushed away as he moved closer to her.

"Chrissie…please," implored John. "I didn't mean the things I said and did. Daddy was just being silly because he had too much beer. I would never hurt you or your brothers. You know that."

The five year old pondered the statement for a moment but remained true to her beliefs, and shook her head at her father in a persistent attitude, hands on hips. She pivoted on the heels of her bare feet and looked up at her brother.

"Bedtime now, Deanie," said Chrissie, taking a grip of the teenager's hand and steering him away from their father. "It late and you go to bed now." The teen paused and exchanged a glance with his dejected father, Chrissie continued to guide him away with various tugs, her tone sweet. "C'mon now."

The pair met with Sam once reaching the top of the stairs, and the thirteen year old also found himself being pulled along by his baby sister. Amused, the brothers followed the youngest into their sanctuary. Sam then climbed back into bed, but remained watching his other siblings from his bed sheets, smiling slightly at Chrissie's maternal behaviour.

"Lie down" commanded the five year old. The older teen was hesitant at first before obeying his sister's order.

She toddled over to his bedside and attempted to tuck him in, almost getting tangled in the bed sheets. The teens chortled at the child's frantic endeavour in making the eldest of the litter comfortable. On seeing her siblings secure in their beds, Chrissie realised she was alone and without security, worry flashed in her eyes. Luckily her brother detected this, before she got upset.

"C'mere," said Dean, patting the space beside him. "You can sleep beside me tonight."

"And Goober?" inquired Chrissie, hoping her teddy bear wouldn't be left alone.

"And Goober" assured the seventeen year old.

Chrissie shuffled over and grabbed her faithful stuffed companion before travelling back to her brother. The little girl climbed onto the bed and crawled over to her idol, nestling into his side. The youth wrapped an arm around her vulnerable frame and kissed the top of her wild mane of brown hair as he pulled her into a protective embrace. He smirked at the sight of the bizarre patchwork teddy bear with the stitched face, that was near enough fused into the crook of his baby sister's arm.

"I sing you song," whispered the little girl. "It make you go to sleep. Like you did when I was baby."

A forlorn smile was tugged at the corners of the youth's mouth as the child began muttering a random tune, her endearing voice fluttered around the silent room, a song only her brothers could hear.

_Mr Moon say bedtime_

_Mr Moon say night-night_

_Time for bed_

_Time for bed_

_Go sleep_

_Mr Stars say bedtime_

_Mr Stars say night-night_

_Time for bed_

_Time for bed_

_Go sleep_

The brothers smiled, closing their eyes and pretending to have fallen asleep, hoping Chrissie would succumb to slumber within seconds. The little girl was exhausted and wrinkled her nose and her eyes became heavy with fatigue. Eventually after a minute or so, Chrissie drifted off to sleep.

_Daddy was really angry. His face purple with rage and his voice rippled like thunder. Chrissie was frozen on the spot as she witnessed her father inflict pain upon her beloved brother. She winced as her brother grunted with the impact of the punches that were being delivered by their father._

_Blood began pooling from his mouth and nose. He yowled as he was kicked in the ribcage repeatedly. _

Chrissie grimaced as she twitched in her sleep, a barely audible whimper escaped her lips.

"_Stop it Daddy," cried Chrissie. "Stop hitting, Deanie. Why you hitting , Deanie?"_

_Her father didn't answer, he only cackled with laughter. The laughter caused her to quake in fear. _

Another whimper, this time slightly louder wavered from her throat. Her hands clenched into fists, her feet began to jerk, almost resembling a running motion. A squeak caused the teens to wake up.

_Chrissie found herself dashing outside and charging down the jetty at the lakeside. The wooden creaked with pressure as her tiny feet trampled across the aging structure. Suddenly she tripped up and went flying into the water with a loud splash._

Petrified yelps caused Sam and Dean to panic as they could only watch in despair as their baby sister was in the grip of a horrible night terror. Her skinny limbs began to flay about.

"It's okay, baby," soothed Dean, trying to wake the child up by shaking her gently by the shoulders. "It's just a dream. Wake up."

Regardless, nothing was working.

_Submerged under water. Completely surrounded by weeds that weighed her down, trapping her in her underwater dungeon. It was cold. It was dark. Chrissie was alone. Nobody was coming to rescue her this time._

A heart wrenching wail erupted from her larynx, shattering the silence and her brothers' hearts. Her back arched as her limbs continued to lash out in distress. Chrissie began to cry, her face flushing scarlet as she howled, tears spurting from her scrunched up eyes. Sam was frozen with sheer shock and horror. He also noted the large wet patch spreading across the oversized flannel t-shirt she was wearing. The poor thing had wet herself again.

The eldest was now cradling her, ignoring the obvious urine stain.

"Chrissie," beseeched Dean, tapping the five year old's face gently, an action that did not ease her hysterical sobs. "Wake up. Please wake up."

Chrissie's eyes snapped open, meeting her brothers' concerned faces. Her bottom lip trembled as she burst into fresh tears, winding her limbs around her eldest brother's torso.

"I peed myself " wept Chrissie into her brother's collar bone.

The brothers' exchanged sorrowful expressions, both wishing that they could shield their baby sister from everything and anything. Sam felt like crying himself.

"Sssssh, your safe now, sweetheart," hushed Dean, rocking her back and forth in his arms. "I've got you. I've got you."

The little girl rammed her thumb into her mouth, another new method of seeking comfort besides her bear and brothers, hiccupping as she did so. Tears continued to stream down her freckled cheeks. This was going to be their longest night.

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**Please review**


	28. Silence Falls

**Sorry for the delay folks. This chapter was co-written by both me and my cyber-buddy, brittpage21. Half of the dialogue in this chapter came from her. Give her a cheer!**

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It had been a week since the accident and it was obvious that the incident itself had left a traumatic impact on Chrissie. The little girl wasn't as hyperactive and talkative as she used to be. She now clung to her eldest brother for everything, and whenever he wasn't around, Chrissie ventured to Sam for comfort. The five year old was choosing not to speak, although she murmured the odd sentence or question on occasion.

The moon had replaced the sun in the sky, and the moonbeams shone onto Chrissie's pensive expression as she scrawled onto a sheet of white paper, highlighting her facial features. She had been drawing pictures a vast majority of the day and hadn't moved from the kitchenette table. Her eyes would often search for her siblings, making sure they were still in her presence, then they returned to her patchwork companion, her teddy bear Goober.

From the grimy couch, her brothers watched her. Both studied her slouched posture, her sharp chin resting on the table top, her hand darting back and forth as she scarred the paper with her wax crayons.

"You'd think she'd have cramp in her hand," commented thirteen year old Sam in a hushed whisper. "She's been sitting there for hours, just drawing. Non-stop." The younger teen produced a drawing that the child had drawn earlier, he handed it to his brother. "Look at this."

The childlike illustration wasn't innocent. Harsh lines symbolized the lake which almost claimed Chrissie, a block of brown indicated the wooden jetty and a stick figure of Chrissie falling off it. Yet, it was a mysterious figure on the jetty that caused the elder teen to raise his eyebrows. The figure had a large head with it's arms outwards in a pushing motion, it's body was colored black, not only that, it's eyes were black too.

The eldest shook his head, almost crinkling the paper that was in his clutches. He knew two things, one, it wasn't an accident, and two, the culprit was a demon. A demon was responsible. A demon tried to kill his baby sister. After another minute, the brothers ventured over to the youngest, who was still occupied with her crayons.

An expression of sheer concentration was on the child's face, eyebrows arched into a frown as she stuck her tongue out as she scribbled. The brothers slid themselves into the empty chairs beside her.

"Hey, squirt," smiled Dean. "What you up to?"

The five year old shot him a quick glance but said nothing, only showing another completed picture in front of him. This time, it was of Chrissie and a soccer ball, with the addition of the demon standing next to her.

"Chrissie, who is that man?" probed Sam curiously, pointing at the hand drawn figure.

Chrissie moved onto another drawing, she sighed as she selected a green crayon and began immediately on her next piece of artwork.

"That bad man who push me in water" returned the five year old simply.

The brothers exchanged a worried gaze at each other. Sam grimaced at the image of a demon shoving the tiny girl into a murky and freezing lake.

"This is the man who took you and threw you in the water?" questioned Dean, secretly hoping it wasn't true.

Chrissie paused and nodded sadly in response to her eldest brother's question. The crayon became animated shortly afterwards, scratching into the paper with force.

"He push me," uttered Chrissie. "He nice. He gived me ball, then he kicked it away. Said I's had to go and get it."

Her frown furrowed further, her grip on the crayon tightened as the crayon became still again, hovering over the paper.

"He laugh when I fell. It not funny though," continued Chrissie. Her serious expression dissolved and was replaced with confusion. She whipped her head around, delivering her full attention onto her eldest brother. "Why he laugh? Why he push me?"

The brothers glanced at each other before returning to the youngest member of their small family. How could something so evil manipulate something so pure and innocent as a little girl. Chrissie's eyes were searching for an explanation on the situation, her siblings pained by her request.

"I don't know, baby girl," replied the eldest. "But I assure you we will find him and he will pay for hurting you."

The younger teenager patted the five year old on her shoulder in an act of reassurance.

"Yeah don't you worry" commented the middle sibling.

Chrissie blinked and placed the crayon down onto the tabletop. She wiggled her fingers, which had now became stiff due to hours of non-stop drawing.

"My hand hurts" said Chrissie, wincing slightly.

The older teen took her hand and inspected it, only to chuckle as he reached the conclusion of what had caused her hand to ache.

"That's cos you've been coloring all day, you silly girl" replied Dean, ruffling her fluffy hair.

"I not silly!" protested Chrissie, slapping his hand away as she was offended by his statement. She sulked and pointed an accusing finger at her eldest brother as she complained to the middle sibling. "Sammy, he call me a name!"

"He was just teasing sweetie," returned Sam with a smirk. "He didn't mean it. He didn't really call you a bad name."

Chrissie's pout didn't disappear however. She looked at Dean, gloomily.

"Yeah, your hand hurting from you coloring," explained the eldest of the litter. "You gotta admit, it is kinda silly."

Chrissie's pout began to wobble, salty tears began welling in her large green eyes.

"Please don't cry, baby girl, please," said the seventeen year old, taking a hold of her tiny hands. "I don't want to see you sad, because when you get sad, it makes me sad."

The idea and image of seeing her beloved hero in distress was too much for the little girl, and she burst into tears. Fat tears spurted down her freckled face and her bottom lip continued to tremble as her emotions were unleashed.

"Sweetheart, please don't, please," pleaded Dean, before getting up from his chair as the child was attempting to make her escape. He crouched down at her level, Chrissie gazed down at him from her chair.

"Come on. We will go out and maybe we can go to the park. What do you say? Huh?"

"That sounds like a great. Chrissie, you love the park" agreed Sam, trying to encourage his sister.

The little girl shook her head as she continued to cry, bringing up balled up fists to her streaming eyes, trying to hide her face from her brothers. She definitely had the ability to break her brothers' hearts.

"No. No. No" wept Chrissie, her breathe hitching alongside her shaking shoulders.

"Oh come on anything, please," implored the older teenager. "What can I do to make you stop crying, please."

"M-e-e w-want y-you!" she sobbed, holding her arms up like she did when she was a baby, hands reaching out for contact.

"C'mere sweetheart" the eldest sibling cooed, picking her up into his arms.

The little girl rested the side of her face against her brother's collar, winding her skinny arms and legs around his neck and torso as she clung onto him for consolation. Tears continued to roll down her cheeks, hiccups sounding from her throat. Sam observed the gentle nature in which his brother was acting with their baby sister. He had carried her to the couch, and was murmuring soothing words of comfort to stop her crying as he hugged her close.

"I want Goober" sniffed Chrissie, scanning about for her teddy bear companion.

Sam took Goober from the kitchenette table and wandered over towards his siblings, handing the little girl her toy to which she hugged it with one arm, whilst resting again her brother. The thirteen year old was thanked with a nod and a sad smile from his older sibling. Chrissie gazed mournfully at her siblings through her tears.

"Why are you crying?" her eldest brother asked, swatting the tears away with his thumb.

"I sorry I made Daddy mad at you" replied the distraught little girl, squashing her cheek against her brother's chest as she cuddled into him.

That statement caught the brothers off guard, and once again the youths shot each other a quick glance that expressed their sadness. The older teenager squeezed the child that was nestled in his arms before taking hold of her tear stained face.

"Sweetheart, you didn't make him mad," Dean remarked, gazing intently into his sister's watering green eyes. He added. "I should have been watching and taking care of you better."

Chrissie wiped her nose with the back of her hand, her face crumpling once again.

"But I bad" she whispered, her voice tiny as sobs threatened to overwhelm her again.

"No, baby, it was _my _fault, because I was in charge of you and I wasn't watching you and didn't see you wander off," replied the seventeen year old. "Come on, how about we lighten up the evening by going out for supper, and then I got a little bit of a surprise for ya afterwards."

The eldest bounced the child on his lap, encouraging her to smile. He only received a frown.

"I no like surprises" commentated Chrissie with a cute scowl.

"I guarantee you will like this surprise," said Dean with a smirk. "I'll give you a hint it is a sweetening surprise."

"Sammy says I not to get sweets," the five year old pouted. "He say I get hypie active."

Sam opened his mouth to protest but silenced himself as he knew his brother wasn't done talking with their sister.

"Well, I'm in charge and I say we are going out," the eldest pointed out, bouncing the child on his lap once again. "We will have fun tonight and Sammy has to go with what I say, and trust me we are gonna have fun tonight."

Chrissie gazed up at her idol with a wide eyed expression. The poor thing looked disheveled, her hair wild and untamed, eyes puffy and red from crying.

"Really? Where we go?" she asked, curiously.

"I told you it's a surprise," answered her brother. "You will find out soon enough. Don't worry it will be a night you will never forget."

The little girl became worried and held onto her teddy bear that was tucked under her arm.

"What _if _I forget?" Chrissie queried, eyes filled with adorable concern.

"Oh trust me you won't forget," assured Dean. "You are going to love it. We will stop first and get a camera, and we will take pictures of tonight so you defiantly won't forget, and have memories of it forever."

Chrissie's eyes widened with wonder and curiosity.

"Forever?" she said with a head tilt.

The brothers both smiled at her. Chrissie since finding her voice had always been extremely inquisitive, always asking endless questions. This offered the boys a glimmer of hope that their sister was still the same little girl they helped raise from six months old, and that the 'accident' hadn't traumatized her too much.

"Forever," repeated the seventeen year old, tickling her under the chin, making her squirm and giggle slightly. He added. "When you look at the picture, you will remember the happy times you had."

Chrissie's brain tried to stop her from smiling but the child's bright emotions shoved the dark emotions into the shadows, and allowed the five year old to grin.

"Wow! Me like that! We go now?," the little girl exclaimed, clapping her tiny hands in excitement. She glanced over at a grinning Sam before returning to the eldest, she titled her head again. "All of us?"

The boys' laughed.

"Of course, sweetheart, anything for you" stated the eldest of the trio, planting a kiss on her forehead, an action that made Chrissie giggle shyly.

Chrissie had never been to a carnival, and was literally dumbfounded with awe in her new environment. The five year old bounded around with excitement, giddy due to sheer glee and the obvious effect of several spinning rides. Sam had been cautious as she had turned an awful shade of green whilst he sat with her on a Teacup ride, yet there was no incident of projectile vomiting. Several rides later, the siblings paused for a break.

The trio stood at a ticket booth for _'The Love Boat Ride'_, the occasional couple appearing and disappearing into a dark tunnel on decorative swan boats.

"How about it, Sammy," smirked Dean, giving the thirteen year old a nudge with his elbow, indicating the ride behind them. "Wanna go down lovers lane with me?"

"Don't be disgusting, jerk" retorted Sam with a grimace as his brother laughed at him.

After the eldest had humored himself by taunting his brother, he returned his attention onto the youngest, who had been watching their conversation with deep interest, though understanding none of it.

"So let's see maybe we will get a big super chili dog and me and you can share," announced Dean, leveling himself with his sister. "What do you think of that, baby girl?"

"Me share with you?" repeated Chrissie.

"Yeah, baby girl," replied the older teenager with a grin. "You and me eat together. You ok with that?"

Sam rolled his eyes. '_Poor kid ain't gonna get anything if she's sharing with him. He'll devour it within a second' _he said to himself.

Chrissie nodded, her wild brown hair bounced with the movement. Then a small frown developed onto her freckled face.

"I no wanna eat a dog" she said, appalled at the idea of her eating Snoopy.

"No, No, sweetheart, not a real dog," explained the seventeen year old, chuckling at the concerned expression on the child's face. "It's like a big sausage. You know what sausage is. We've eaten them for breakfast before."

Chrissie giggled sweetly, clasping her hands behind her back and swaying on her heels. Her eyes became saucers as she tilted her head in a cute manner. The brothers' smiled down at her.

Sam held an instant flash camera in his hands as his siblings purchased a large chili hot dog, recalling memories he had managed to capture. He had taken a photo of Chrissie trying to lift a heavy hammer at a sideshow, though obviously failing. Another of her against a height measurement sign, this image was to remind the boys' on how tiny their sister was during childhood. Who knows, maybe she would always be short? His favorite however was of the full trio behind a comical cutout stand, enabling them to poke their heads through. Chrissie's cartoon body was a strong muscle man with a bald shiny head, a pair of dumbbells in his meaty hands. Dean was a bearded lady with a overweight frame and plump feet, and Sam was a clown, his worst fear. They got a passing couple to take the photo.

"Look, Sammy," beamed Chrissie, balancing the food item in her hands as she toddled over to him as the eldest paid. "It nearly bigger than me."

To say the food item was large was an understatement.

"Everything is bigger than you, Chrissie" chuckled Sam.

The siblings were on the move again, Chrissie never left her eldest brother's side as she nibbled at the hot dog, wincing now and again due to the heat, making her brothers' laugh.

It had been raining the previous day, therefore huge puddles of mud and water had been churned up, making it slightly hazardous for walking. As the trio edged their way around a particularly giant puddle, their were disrupted by a gang of rowdy teenagers who found charging through the puddles amusing. One teenager, wearing a navy colored hooded sweater, and sporting a bad attempt at growing facial hair, careered right into Chrissie, knocking her into the puddle.

His friends sniggered at the sight of the five year old gasping with surprise as she looked around, mud soaking into her skin, hair and clothes. Her bottom lip trembled and she started to cry. Several females in the gang cooed at her as she wept.

Instinct kicked in and the brothers' were spurred into action. Sam dashed over to his sobbing baby sister, who was sitting on her bottom, balled up fists rubbing at her eyes.

"Hey, it's alright" soothed the thirteen year old, not caring if he got dirty as he pulled her into an embrace.

The eldest was seething with rage, he stormed over to the teenager, who he guessed was near enough his age. He clamped a hand on the teen's shoulder, startled him.

"Hey, dickface!" growled Dean.

"You talkin' to me?" started the smug youth.

"Yeah, I'm talkin' to you," returned Dean, anger flashing in his green eyes. "You get a cheap laugh outta picking on five year olds? Huh?"

The gang laughed at him.

"Who the hell does this douche bag think he is?" the youth asked his friends with a sneer. He returned his attention to Dean. "Look, pretty boy, my friends don't care about that kid. I don't care about that kid. Who the hell cares?"

The gaggle of teens squawked in shock as they witnessed their leader get punched in the nose by the kid in a leather jacket. Blood sprayed out of the kid's nose and he fell to his knees with the force of impact.

"I do!" thundered Dean, pulling the kid onto his feet and marching him over to his sister. "Apologize to her! Now!"

"Ok, Ok I get it! I'm sorry" the teenager apologized, before being shoved violently away therefore able to make his escape.

Chrissie gazed mournfully at her big brother and pointed at a soggy lump in the puddle.

"My hot dog" she said woefully, pouting.

Dean got down on his knees beside his siblings.

"Aw, it's okay, sweetie," he told the little girl. "We'll get you another one."

Chrissie sniffed nosily and rubbed her muddy cheeks, she pouted again, sorrow filled her eyes.

"I all dirty," she uttered sadly, picking at her soaked sweater. "I not pretty if I all dirty."

"Of course your pretty," replied Dean, scooping her off the ground and into his arms. He kissed her on the forehead. "You are the prettiest girl in the world." He glanced at the middle sibling. "Ain't that right, Sam?"

Chrissie whipped her head back and forth from brother to brother.

"That's right Chrissie," Sam agreed truthfully. "I've never seen a girl more prettier."

Chrissie wrinkled her nose and blinked several times before she shivered.

"I'm cold" she said.

"Don't worry, baby, we'll get you warmed up as soon as we get back to the motel," returned the eldest. "But first, what do you say we all get another hotdog or two each, and cotton candy, and popcorn, and," he said pausing dramatically. "Ice cream!"

The five year old's eyes lit up and she giggled and bounced in her brother's arms.

"I wanna cheeseburger," requested Chrissie, holding her brother's face in her filthy hands, grinning adorably at him. "Please."

"Then, you shall get a cheeseburger" replied the seventeen year old with a positive nod of the head. They rubbed their noses together.

As they departed for the food stalls again, Sam nudged Dean with his elbow.

"Your such a push-over" smirked Sam.

"Shut up," hissed Dean. "I am not."

The siblings eventually returned to the motel. Chrissie charged into the room, trampling her filthy boots onto the floor.

"I all dirty" giggled the five year old, grinning up at her siblings.

Her brothers' smirked, amused by their baby sister.

"Yeah, I know you dirty, silly girl," the eldest remarked, getting on his haunches so that he was level with her. "Now, it's time for a bath to get you all clean. Then we can eat and have ice cream."

Chrissie shook her head in a negative response.

"No" she said.

"C'mon," the seventeen year old returned. "How else do you expect to get all clean and get all that mud off of ya?"

The child frowned and shook her head once again, sticking her bottom lip into a pout.

"No" she repeated, stubbornly.

The brothers' glanced at each other and both sighed in unison, it was clear a battle was about begin.

"You have to get clean, Chrissie," Sam pointed out, joining his siblings. "You'll catch a cold if you don't."

The frown didn't vanishes and the scowl developed further as did the pout. She curled her hands into tiny fists, which trembled by her side, before pushing Sam away.

"Chrissie! Don't push!" the thirteen year old stated in a slight authoritarian manner.

"I no wanna bath," whined Chrissie, stomping her feet moodily. "No. No. No."

Dean was getting annoyed by his sister's attitude, however he tried to remain calm as getting angry would only make matters worse. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in exasperation.

"I'm sorry, honey, but that's my final word," he stated. "Your getting a bath whether you like it or not."

The five year old wasn't listening to her peer's demand and let out an annoyed yell and stomped her feet again, expressing her aggravation.

"No!" she barked.

Dean's patience was now being tested, he placed his hands on her shoulders and shook her gently, his eyes glowing with frustration.

"That's it!," he said, his tone strict. "I said your getting a bath, young lady and I mean it. I'm not kiddin'."

Chrissie snarled at him and tried to shove him away. The child wasn't willing to co-operate and she was trying in vain to avoid the obstacle that she was confronted with. It meant that she had to conjure up a tantrum to get her own way, even though it made her brothers' cross. The older teenager rattled her by the shoulders.

"Enough!" he yelled. Chrissie then blew a loud and noisy raspberry, causing her brother's temper to flare even more.

Chrissie let out a yelp as she was roughly guided into the bathroom, and she started shrieking once the door was firmly locked behind her. The child furiously banged on the door with her tiny fists.

"Let me out!," she demanded. "Let me out!"

A petrified expression was now painted on her mucky face, eyes widening with fear as she could hear the bath tub filling up with water. The tantrum was getting worse and worse by the second, and Dean felt guilty in committing this act of authority. Yet he had to be cruel to be kind.

"Settle down, Chrissie," her brother said, feeling terrible for making her upset. "It's just a bath. Now let's start getting you undressed so we can get you cleaned up in the tub."

The five year old refused and began to struggle, regardless of her brother holding her in a vice like grip. Chrissie protested and battled with him as she was stripped of her dirty clothes. Her screams bounced off the tiled walls and echoed in the teenager's ears. Tears began to stream down her face as her tantrum reached it's pinnacle, her squeals being chocked by sobs.

"Please calm down," the youth begged, loosening his grip on her and taking her face in his hands. "Listen, how about I went in with you, do think that'll help? Huh?"

Chrissie wiped her running nose with the back of her hand, shoulders trembling as she cried softly. The distressed little girl shrugged.

"I dunno" she mumbled.

"Don't worry," assured Dean, swatting the tears with his thumbs. "I will make sure nothing happens too you, I promise."

The pout combined with the sorrowful expression broke the seventeen year old's heart. She was so young and vulnerable. He would do anything to stop any amount of suffering she was enduring, even if it meant trading places, then he would do so without hesitation.

"But you angry with me?" said Chrissie, her voice thick from crying.

She tilted head, waiting for an answer.

"I just got a little upset with you because you wouldn't listen," explained Dean. "But no, I was never angry with you, baby. I love you. Now let's get in the tub and get you clean as a whistle."

Chrissie curled her toes and stared at her feet, the pout quivered.

"But I fall again" she whispered.

"No, you won't, sweetheart," promised the youth. "I'll be right here with you and make sure your ok. So, come on let's get you into the tub."

The journey towards the bath tub was a terrifying sight for Chrissie. She could feel her heart beating at an incredible rate, slamming against her ribcage, her eyes wide with sheer fright as she was carefully lowered into the bath. The five year old merely stood in the centre of the tub, completely rigid, eyes like saucers.

"Close your eyes for a second, Chrissie" instructed her brother.

"Why?" asked a perplexed Chrissie.

"Deanie needs to take his clothes off, and so I don't need you to see this, so just keep your eyes closed" the seventeen year old explained.

As soon as Chrissie obeyed and squeezed her eyes shut, the teen stripped down to his boxers and climbed into the bath beside his sister. He tapped her on the shoulder, startling her as she snapped her eyes open again.

"Alright, Chrissie, you can sit down" said Dean.

"Nuh uh" replied Chrissie with a shake of the head.

"Chrissie, sit down so we can get you clean," commented Dean. "The faster we get you clean, the faster you get your supper."

Chrissie shook her head once more, shifting in her position slightly which made her panic. The five year old squeaked in fright as she slipped, only to be caught in her brother's arms.

"Are you alright, baby?" queried the youth, cupping her face gently as she howled. "Come on, let me wet your head and see if you hurt yourself."

"I no like this" sobbed the little girl, hugging her idol with all her might.

"It's okay, sweetie," hushed Dean. "It was an accident. Don't worry, big brother is here to make it all better."

He then rocked her in his arms until she calmed down again before he was able to wash her, though she fidgeted a lot. Throughout this ritual, Dean noticed his sister gazing at a large purple bruise on her wrist.

"What's this?" he asked, shocked by it's color and size.

Chrissie mumbled something under her breathe, though it wasn't very audible for her brother.

"What did you say?" he asked again, listening out for the reply.

"The bad man did it," stated Chrissie, wincing as he brother inspected it. "He tried to take me away and he hurted my hand."

The teen was horrified by the statement. It made him hate demons even more.

"Sweetie, why didn't you show us this right away after the accident?" he queried, gazing into his sister's eyes.

"Bad man say I not allowed," replied the child. "He come get me again if I say."

The bruise was badly swollen after being ignored for so long and was spread all around her wrist, the eldest knew it would be best to inspect it.

After the pair had been dried off and wrapped in towels, they exited the bathroom. Whilst Dean was getting changed, Sam comforted his upset sister. Once the eldest returned, the teenagers began fumbling around with a first aid kit.

"Will my hand fall off ?" asked Chrissie in a angst ridden tone.

"No," chuckled Sam. "It's just really swollen and needs a special lotion medicine on it to help the swelling go down for now."

Dean then started to use the gauze with the medicine then started to rub it down on Chrissie's wrist and hand. The lotion nipped and caused her to wince with discomfort.

"I know it hurts, baby, but it's almost over," assured the eldest. "It's almost over, hang on."

Dean then finished with the medicine then started to wrap up her hand.

"Thank God, Dad ain't here" remarked Sam, quietly.

"Yeah, thank God" agreed the older teenager.

"Where is Daddy?" wondered Chrissie, aware of her father's absence.

"He is working, sweetheart" replied the eldest.

Dean finished wrapping up Chrissie's wrist and hand and then taped it up and then told her to stay still while he got her pajamas. Dean got her pajamas out of her bag and then started to dress her.

"Owww" complained Chrissie, wriggling the fingers of her bandaged hand. Tears began spilling down her cheeks. "I want my Mommy."

"Aw, baby, I know you do," soothed the eldest, cuddling the weeping child. His heart breaking for her as he swallowed the lump in his throat. "We all miss Mommy."

A minute passed, and the little girl had settled down again, yet it was obvious that something could set her off again.

"Alright we got your shirt on, now let's get your pajama pants on" said Dean.

Chrissie then lifted up her legs and Dean put her pants on.

"There all finished," declared the seventeen year old. "Now lets get you something to eat. Let's warm up our supper and get your tummy filled."

The little girl then crawled across the bed away from her brothers' and curled up next to the pillow, she then popped her thumb from her un bandaged hand into her mouth.

"I no want supper" the five year old uttered sadly, tears gliding down her face again.

"Honey, what's wrong?" began Dean, traveling over with Sam towards the other end of the bed where she lay softly weeping. "Why you crying and sucking your thumb?"

"I want Mommy" repeated Chrissie, burying her face in the pillow.

"You know mommy went away when you were a baby," the eldest reminded her. "You know what?"

"What?" wondered Chrissie, turning her face to gaze at her brothers'.

"Mommy looks down on us everyday," the older teenager said. "She looks out for us from the sky."

"Mommy's an angel?" asked Chrissie.

"Yes, mommy is an angel," Sam replied. "Mommy is the most beautiful one up there."

"Why is Mommy with the angels?" Chrissie wondered, with a doleful expression. "Why she go away? She no like me?"

"Mommy loved you," said Dean, smoothing her fluffy hair. "You were the most precious gift from God that Mommy and Daddy got. The day you were born was a wonderful day. It was an accident that made mommy go away. But mommy will always love you no matter where she is."

Chrissie blinked, causing several tears to escape from her green eyes.

"Can she come back?" she enquired.

The brothers' glanced at each other, grief evident in their own eyes. Sam rubbed soothing circles on Chrissie's back.

"No, sweetheart," returned Dean, the lump in his throat bloated to golf ball size in his throat, his own tears stung at the back of his eyes.

"Mommy has to stay with the angels, but one day when you go bye-bye you will see her again. When you go up to live with the angels, you can talk to Mommy whenever you want to."

More tears streamed from the little girl's eyes, she pressed her face back in the pillow, sobbing gently.

"Oh sweetheart, don't cry," implored the eldest, placing a hand on the back of her head, attempting to turn her head to face him. "We all miss Mommy."

"If there is anything you want to know about Mommy, we will tell you" added Sam, tears threatening in his eyes too.

The little girl finally turned her head around to face her brothers', tears still streaming down her delicate face, hiccups jerking from her throat.

"I wanna go to sleep now" she sniffed.

"There is no need to cry though," Sam pointed out softly. "What's wrong?"

"If I went buh-bye, Goober would be alone," Chrissie explained, clutching her teddy bear to her chest. "He no like being on his own."

The stuffed toy stared blankly, unaware of it's owner despair.

"Well, if you ever went away I'm sure Goober would go with you in spirit," said Sam. "I'm sure God has lots of toys in Heaven for little kids."

Dean stroked the side of her face affectionately, catching several tear drops.

"Sam's probably right, sweetheart," he concurred. "Now how about we get something good to eat in that tummy of yours, huh?"

The five year old shook her head, she then yawned. The poor thing was exhausted.

"No," she mumbled, leaning into her brother's hand. "I wanna go sleep."

"C'mon, you need to eat something before you go to sleep," said Dean.

"You can't go to sleep on an empty tummy. You could get sick."

Sam nodded in agreement to his elder brother's statement.

"Dean's right Chris," the thirteen year old said. "You need to eat at least a little something."

Chrissie didn't move or make a sound, she curled up into a tight ball and closed her eyes. The pleading requests from her brothers' to eat something were ignored. Then again, Chrissie had went hungry before. During the times when she was left alone while her brothers' and father went out, she had to fend for herself. Being without food was almost second nature to her.

"Okay, baby," her eldest sibling said tenderly. "But if you get hungry just tell us, even if it's late. I still think you should eat now so you don't get sick. You want a story?"

The teenager didn't get a response. She just lay there in silence, tears falling from her closed eyes, her tiny frame trembling.

Sam ventured forward and kissed her on the top of her head and whispered:

"Love you, Chrissie, sweet dreams."

The middle sibling then wandered into the bathroom, granting himself and his brother some alone time. Dean watched his baby sister and carefully crawled over and lay beside her. He wrapped his arms around her as he pulled her into a protective embrace.

"Good night, sweetheart," he whispered in her ear. On planting a kiss on her forehead, he added with deep melancholy. "Angel's are watching over you."

* * *

***Holding box of tissues* ****Take one if needed **

**Please review**


	29. Silence Broken

**Once again, half of the dialogue written in this chapter was produced by brittpage21. Her help and ideas have been a God send :P**

**This chapter contains alot of hurt/angst Chrissie, angst/awesome Sam and sad/angst/protective Dean. John turns up later alongside a special appearance (read to find out who)**

* * *

Sunlight beamed into the motel room, emphasizing the innocence on the face of the exhausted five year old that was huddled into her big brother, who was beginning to stir from his sleep. Dark circles shadowed under her doleful eyes. She had been awake for several hours, yet hadn't moved an inch. Her thumb was positioned in her mouth and she sucked on it in a baby like manner, blinking several times as she stared aimlessly into space.

Dean was beginning to stir, bringing a hand to his face to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He blinked blearily and was surprise to see Chrissie awake, shifting slightly, the teenager gazed at the child that was cuddled into his side.

"You awake already?," he asked her. "How long have you been up?"

The little girl didn't respond. She simply sucked her thumb, bearing a sorrowful and tired expression. Her hair a fluffy brown bush.

"Sweetheart, you look tired," added the seventeen year old, concerned about his baby sister's fatigued appearance. "You need to try to go back to sleep, okay."

Sniffing, Chrissie once again didn't react to her brother's words. Just at that moment, Sam woke from his slumber.

"Morning," he started, slowly climbing out of bed, and stretching. He cocked his head at the youngest. "Chrissie, you look like you haven't slept a wink."

The child refused to answer, making her brothers' even more puzzled and worried.

"Right, well, I'm gonna go out for breakfast," announced Sam, sensing the tense atmosphere as he tugged his clothes on. "We can save the stuff from last night for later."

"Okay," replied Dean. "Just get coffee and doughnuts for us, and get some juice as well for Chris."

This statement didn't sound good in Chrissie's opinion as she shook her head. The eldest frowned with concern, hugging her with one arm.

"You need to eat, baby," he crooned, rubbing her skinny arm. "You need to get some fluids or liquids in you. But for now lay back down and rest."

Dean then ventured into the bathroom as soon as Sam departed through the front door, in search of breakfast. The realization that she was alone was all too much for Chrissie, who let out a mournful wail.

From the bathroom, Dean could hear his sister's distress and after finishing his business, he exited the bathroom and hurried over to the weeping child.

"I was only going to be gone for a couple of minutes. I was only in the bathroom," the seventeen year old explained softly as he held her in an embrace. He cupped her face with one hand. "It's okay, baby, your not alone. I'm still here."

Chrissie's gaze drifted from her brother's face and towards the corner of the motel room. Next to the TV stood a man, dressed in a smart navy suit. He was heavy built, with thinning hair and brown eyes. The impression he was radiating wasn't very welcoming. The five year old stared at the stranger, cowering at the sight of the figure.

"C'mon, honey," came her brother's voice, as he attempted to lower her on the mattress, though he was having difficulty as the child's body went rigid. "Lay down. You need to rest. I'll even lay with you for awhile, if that's what you want. Or do you want me to tell you a story?"

She continued to stare over at the TV, not returning her gaze to her brother.

"Chrissie, look at me," said the teenager, turning her head to meet him. "You need to try to go back to sleep. I'll wake you up in a little while, and let you eat some breakfast, but right now you need to sleep."

Chrissie peered up, only to see the scary man standing right behind her big brother, a smirk on his face. A squeak escaped her lips and she yanked herself from her brother's grasp and she clambered off the bed and scurried into the bathroom.

"Chrissie, what's wrong?" Dean asked in an anxious tone as he raced after her. He tried the door handle, only to discover the child had managed to lock it. Rapping on the door, he called out to her. "Sweetheart, please unlock the door so we can talk. Please?"

No response came. The teenager begged again:

"Chrissie, please we need to talk about what's wrong. Just open the door."

Just then, the front door opened and Sam wandered in, and as he placed the food items down onto the kitchenette table, he raised a quizzical eyebrow at his brother, who was standing at the bathroom door.

"What's wrong?," inquired the thirteen year old, noticing his sister wasn't around. "Where's Chrissie?"

"Something's spooked her," replied his brother, running a hand through his cropped hair. "I dunno what. She's locked herself in the bathroom."

The younger teenager traveled over to the locked door and tapped on it with his knuckles.

"Chrissie, it's Sam," he called. "Can you please open the door?" He paused. "You don't have to come out. I'll come in and we can talk."

Bringing her knocking knees to her chest, Chrissie sat with her back against the door, her focus on the creepy man who was crouched down at her level.

A meaty hand rested on her knee and began to fondle it in a perverted manner, snaking up to her thigh. The five year old squeezed her eyes shut as she felt his breathe billow into her ear. Then suddenly, the man disappeared again. Timidly, Chrissie peeked around ever angle of the bathroom whilst rising to her feet. Her head whipped around as there was another knock on the door.

"Open the door, baby," came Dean's voice. "Please."

The brothers' waited several minutes before they heard the door click open. The eldest held back and allowed the middle sibling to enter.

Sam entered the bathroom and spotted Chrissie standing back a little behind the door. As soon as he close the door, the younger teenager sat down, motioning Chrissie to come over and join him.

However, Chrissie was ignoring him, her full attention was on the corner of the room. The strange man was back, slyly waving at her was leaning against the tiled wall. Her eyes widened with fright, her underweight frame began to tremble violently with fear. Blood was now pouring from every orifice on the man, a visible bullet hole in the centre of his head. A gurgle rumbled from the man's throat as he leered at her.

Sam moved his position, and took hold of the little girl's cold hands. He frowned and followed her gaze. Nothing.

"What is it?," he questioned. "What do you see?"

Pointing over at the area where the man stood, Chrissie bowed her head whilst whimpering like a puppy. Sam was confused. Noting the drop in his sister's body temperature, the thirteen year old stood up. He opened the door and was confronted by the eldest.

"Did you get through to her?," asked the older teenager. "Is she coming out?"

"Not yet," replied Sam. He indicated towards the blanket that was thrown across the arm of the couch. "Hand me the blanket."

Once receiving the blanket, the middle sibling returned to his petrified baby sister, who he draped the blanket around.

"What do you see?," he repeated, gazing into her large green eyes. "I can't see anything."

The little girl's bottom lip protruded into a pout which instantly wobbled. Tears began to glide down her freckled face.

"Shhh, please don't cry," pleaded Sam, wiping her streaming eyes with the corner of the blanket. A light bulb flickered in his head. "I got an idea. Maybe you can draw what you see. Would that be easier?"

The child nodded.

"Okay," replied Sam. "You stay here, and I will go get you some paper and crayons."

On exiting the bathroom for a second time, Sam was met by Dean yet again.

"Well?" asked Dean, wearing a hopeful expression.

"She's still not talking," Sam replied, causing his brother to sigh in frustration. "But I got through to her. She's going to draw what she is seeing."

"What!" declared Dean, shocked by his brother's statement. "What does she see?"

"I don't know," sighed Sam, a pang of helplessness stinging within his soul. "That's why I'm giving her some paper and crayons. So she can show me."

Dean nodded and sat back down on the edge of the bed, wringing his hands in a gesture of anxiety. He watched Sam grab the paper and crayons and head back to the bathroom. Sam entered the bathroom again, and placed the paper and crayons in front of his baby sister, who was sitting on the floor and rocking back and forth in a repetitive manner.

"Here you go, kiddo," said Sam, offering the child the paper and crayons. "Now you color what you are seeing for me."

Chrissie took the items from her brother and began working. A stick figure with a shape on it's neck, appearing to resemble a tie, was drawn. The blue crayon was used to color in the man's body. Yet, it was the use of the red crayon that startled Sam. Red marks were scored on the stick figure's eyes, ears and mouth, but most noticeable was the hole in the head.

"Chrissie, who is this man?," inquired Sam, horrified as he examined the drawing at that handed to him. He hoped that his sister wasn't experiencing something paranormal. "Can you see through him?"

Chrissie shrugged, confused by the question. Peeking over her shoulder, she glanced by over at the bloody figure, terror evident in her eyes. A low gurgled groan echoed from the figure's mouth. Frightened, Chrissie shot up like a bullet, though she forgotten about the blanket. The blanket tangled around her, almost like an ancient Egyptian mummy, and as she tried to break free, she slipped backwards.

Her head bounced off the ground on impact as she landed. A pained scream ripped from her throat.

"Chrissie!" exclaimed Sam, leaping into action, pulling her into a comforting embrace. "Are you alright?"

Quick as lightening, Sam unlocked the door and picked Chrissie up in his arms. He rushed out of the bathroom and placed her on the free bed. This sight caused the eldest great alarm.

"What happened?" demanded the seventeen year old, immediately at the distressed child's side.

"She got tangled in the blanket and tripped over it," explained Sam, trying not to panic. "She was trying to escape from something. I had asked her if what she is seeing is a ghost. Then she freaked out."

Chrissie's face had flushed scarlet red, tears oozed from her eyes as she wailed.

"Calm down," soothed Sam, his hands shaking. "Tell me where it hurts."

Sobbing, Chrissie rubbed the back of her head, grimacing as she did so.

"Did you hurt your head? Let me see" Sam offered, moving towards her, an action that caused her to back away whilst she continued to rub her head.

The eldest moved in her direction, only this time she clambered off the bed and crawled under the bed.

"Chrissie, stop, your going to hurt yourself," said Dean, a hint of desperation in his tone, as he squatted in order peer under the bed where she was hiding. "Do you want to make your hand and wrist worse? Please, come here so I can look you over to make sure your not hurt."

Suddenly, the five year old scurried out from underneath the bed, sobbing hysterically. A large grey hand reached out of her ankle from the under the bed. The little girl charged towards the kitchenette , colliding with a chair before diving under the kitchenette table. Her brothers' followed and crouched down beside her weeping form.

"Baby, please, I know your hurting," said Dean. "Don't you want me to make it better?"

As Chrissie shivered violently in a tight ball, the middle sibling held back. She was then scooped up in her eldest brother's arms and carried back over to the bed. Extra blankets were wrapped around the five year old, words of reassurance were whispered as she continued to whimper.

"Calm down," hushed Dean, smoothing her wild hair. "Now, do you want me to try and make you feel better?"

Heartbroken, Chrissie nodded.

"Okay, I am going to bring back the covers so I can look at your whole body," explained the seventeen year old. "Then I will cover you back up." He then turned to the middle sibling. "Sam, go and get that drawing from the bathroom and the crayons."

Sam obeyed and quickly returned and placed them on the table and returned to his bed. Chrissie wriggled slightly, which caused her to wince with pain.

"I know it hurts, sweetie," hushed Dean. "But try to be brave. Okay let's check your wrist and hand first." Dean then unwrapped her wrist and hand. " Alright, luckily your wrist and hand are no worse than they were. Sam, go and get me the first aid kit from the bathroom."

Once again, Sam obeyed his brother's command. Dean then wiped more lotion medicine on her wrist and hand, which was an unpleasant sensation for the five year old.

"I know it hurts, baby, but you have got to hold still so I can re-dress it" said the seventeen year old.

Dean then finished with the lotion then re-dressed her wrist and hand with ace bandages, ignoring the sulking expression he was receiving from Chrissie.

"I now need you to sit up so I can check your head" instructed Dean.

It was unsuccessful as Chrissie winced as soon as she raised her upper torso. She gave up and flopped back down onto the bed. Her brothers' squawked her name in panic stricken unison.

"Are you alright?," asked Dean, hoisting her upper body up in order to inspect the back of her head. Behind the waves of brown hair, a fat bump was developing. "Ooh that's a big one, a real goose egg."

Fearing that she could be suffering from concussion, the eldest tried to press questions on her, hoping she was able to answer them. However, she still refused to utter a single word. With drooping eyes, Chrissie began to close them.

"We can't let you sleep, sweetheart," stated Dean, compressing a hand against her glistening forehead. "You've hit your head pretty bad."

Annoyed, Chrissie began thumping her aching head and wrist repeatedly against the pillow.

"Stop it, you're gonna hurt yourself " warned the eldest, trying to stop the tantrum.

The little girl's face crumpled, tears streamed down her face once more, her hands reached out for contact. Unable to ignore this, Dean scooped her into his arms and hugged her, in a secure embrace.

"Chrissie, sweetheart," began Dean, his voice gentle. "You think you could tell me and Sammy about that picture you drew?"

Glancing between brothers', Chrissie swallowed. Her breathe hitched as she finally rediscovered her vocals.

"No" she croaked, her voice thick from crying.

"Chrissie, who is this man," probed Dean, indicating the drawing that Sam was holding in his hands.

"He scary" whispered the tearful little girl.

She wrapped her arms around her big brother's neck and buried her face in his collar.

"Oh, sweetheart, it's okay. We don't need you to talk about it anymore," replied Dean, rubbing his sister's back. "So, you think you could answer some questions for me, to know if you don't have a concussion?"

A tilt of the head and a puzzled expression made it clear to Dean that his request had confused his sister.

"Sorry, sweetheart," apologized Dean, correcting himself. "I mean I need you to answer some more questions like: When is your birthday? and What is your full name?"

Nevertheless, Chrissie was still bamboozled.

"Why?" she asked.

"So we can make sure you didn't get knocked out too hard when you got that bump on your head" explained her brother.

Wrinkling her nose and with a frown, Chrissie could feel her eyes drooping again.

"It hurt" complained Chrissie.

"What hurts, sweetie?" questioned Dean, gazing at her intently.

White dots appeared in her vision, performing a dance routine as they bobbed and swirled around.

"My head" she whined, pouting.

"I'm sure it does, sweetie," replied the eldest, stroking the side of her cheek. "But we need to make sure nothing else is wrong with your brain in your head."

More white dots had multiplied in Chrissie's vision, there was so many that Chrissie couldn't count them anymore. A sickly feeling started to rumble within the pit of Chrissie's stomach.

"Sweetie, you getting sleepy?" questioned Dean, concern etched on his face.

"I feel funny" mumbled the dazed child.

The white dots bounced along Chrissie's vision obscuring her ability to think and see straight. Everything was blurry.

"Sweetheart, look at me," Dean commanded, terror lacing his voice. He held up three fingers, to which he asked. "How many fingers am I holding up."

The teenager wasn't given a response. Overwhelmed, Chrissie closed her eyes, making the white dots vanish, and her head lolled back. The brothers' watched in horror as their baby sister blacked out, yelling her name in unison.

* * *

"Chrissie, please wake up," pleaded Sam, almost in tears.

Dean shook her roughly as he held her limp body in his arms. There was no response.

"Chrissie, please don't go to sleep now," begged Dean. "We need to know what's wrong with you."

Regardless, Chrissie didn't wake up.

"Okay, hospital, now" commanded Dean, snapping into instant action, as he cradled the child in his arms.

"I'll get her some pajamas," added Sam, grabbing a fresh set of pajamas, decorated with a Batman motif. "You get her to the car."

"Right," returned Dean, hugging Chrissie close to his hammering chest. "Just hurry."

The eldest sibling barreled towards the front door, but on swinging it open he was greeted by a figure on the other side.

"Dad?" uttered Dean, a mixture of fear and relief in his tone.

A haggard John Winchester stood in the entrance, bemused by the actions and behaviour of his children. He gazed at his daughter in the arms of his first-born.

"Dean? What's going on?" demanded John.

"We'll explain when we get there," replied Dean. "We're in a hurry. We gotta get Chris here to the hospital."

Just then Sam looked up from getting Chrissie's pajamas and saw his father.

"Hi Dad" he said, stuffing Goober in the duffel bag alongside Chrissie's pajamas.

"Sam" nodded John.

The hunter then motioned his sons' to move, John climbed into the front seat of the family's prized muscle car, whilst the boys' remained in the back seat with an unconscious Chrissie. The car roared to life and was soon speeding down the silent street.

"I was there when she hit her head," Sam stated, grasping Chrissie's hand in his own. "It wasn't that bad."

"Did you check her for any signs of a bad concussion?" probed John, glancing in the rear view mirror.

"We tried, Dad," said Dean, who was still cradling Chrissie in his arms. "But she wouldn't cooperate."

"What happened?" John sighed, fiercely gripping the steering wheel.

Dean swallowed and took a deep breathe.

"She kept telling me that she was tired and her head hurt," he explained. "And when I tried to get her to try again after a while she said she felt funny, and she was seeing dots. I put up three fingers and asked her how many but she didn't respond."

John felt like slamming his head repeatedly against the steering wheel. Nothing ever ran smoothly with this life.

"Before that," John asked, eyes fixed on the road ahead. "How did this all start?"

"Well, we took Chrissie to a carnival to try to cheer her up from the accident," explained Dean. "We were just leaving when this kid bumped into Chrissie, and Chrissie landed in the mud and started to cry."

Dean looked at his younger brother to continue.

"She seemed fine afterwards," added Sam. "Then she started having a tantrum when we got back."

Dean nodded.

"So when I try to get her in the tub, she down right throws a fit," continued Dean. "I had to end up dragging her into the bathroom and locking the door."

The eldest could still hearing her screams in his mind, the poor thing was terrified.

"She then starts to bang on the door to be let out, then she continued the tantrum till I had to resort to getting in the tub with her," added the seventeen year old. "I had to tell her I wasn't angry with her just upset because she wasn't listening. She then told me she would fall again, and I told her she wouldn't, and that I would be there with her and made sure she was okay."

The older teenager stroked the child's delicate freckled face, wishing that her radiant green eyes would snap open and she would giggle as if this was a huge joke. Only it wasn't.

"So, she agreed and I stood her in the tub," he persisted. "Then I got her to shut her eyes as I stripped."

His father and younger brother grimaced with the last sentence.

"Too much information, Dean" said John.

"Yeah totally, man" Sam smirked.

Dean blushed slightly, he cleared his throat.

"Sorry," he said. "Anyways, after I got into the tub with her, I then told her to sit down and she shook her head. I asked her again, I got the same reaction,"

He sighed, gazing at her still form.

"No matter how many times I asked her, she wouldn't sit down. The kid was freakin' out," the teen added. " She slipped but I managed to catch her. Then I saw this bruise on her arm and she said it was from the accident. That this man that threw her in the lake did it."

John sighed again. Things were just getting better and better.

"I asked her why she didn't tell us right away," continued the eldest. "She said the bad man told her that she wasn't allowed. She said he would come get her if she said anything."

The many times Chrissie had created imaginary figures, it had always been know to be fantasy, however with her revelation on the accident, it was certain that this figure wasn't imaginary.

"After that, we made sure we wrapped her wrist to bring the swelling down" commented Dean.

Pausing for a second, Dean knew it would be best to leave out the section in his story about Chrissie asking questions their late Mother and crying herself to sleep. Sam then took over and described the current event and about the encounter with 'Bleeding Man', which caused her head injury.

"When I was rounding off the routine salt and burn, about an hour ago, I had a last encounter with the ghost," John said, briefly observing the activity in the back seat. "It was a vengeful spirit of this pedophile who was lurking around in the 1980s. He sexually abused a total of nine children between the ages of five and thirteen, over the course of six years. The police never found any steady evidence to convict him."

Sam grimaced in disgust at the idea of such abuse inflicted upon children.

"Then a parent of one of the victims took revenge and murdered him by putting a bullet through his brain," concluded John. "I discovered something else. He was a frequent guest at our motel. _Our _room was _his _room."

Sam's jaw dropped in horror. The concept of a normal ghost appeared okay, but for it to be the ghost of a pedophile was too much for him to swallow.

"Wow, Dad," quipped Sam. "You sure picked the best motel this time. That is if you ignore the fact that you placed us in a room that is haunted by the spirit of pedophile."

The thirteen year old paused then gasped as it dawned on him why the ghost was there.

"He was after Chrissie," he uttered. "My God."

"I burned his bones before anything else happened," returned John. "I wouldn't have wanted Chrissie to get hurt."

"What?" Dean interrupted. "Are you tellin' us that you were using your own daughter as bait to catch a ghost? Even though you _knew _it's sick little hobby."

John silenced his sons' with a stern expression, yet just as Sam was about to confront his father, the family was confronted by something else.

As Dean gazed down at his baby sister's face, he saw a twitch at the centre of her forehead and the slight movement behind her closed eyelids.

"C'mon, baby," he crooned in her ear. "That's it, open your eyes. Wake up."

Yet, the response he got wasn't the kind he wished for. The twitch developed into a shiver until finally, the five year old was in the full grasp of a violent seizure. Her back and neck arched as her arms and legs convulsing as if she was being electrocuted. Frothy salvia began ejecting from her mouth.

"Oh God, what's happening to her?" cried Dean, trying vainly to compose the convulsing child. "Dad, please hurry."

Chrissie's hands formed themselves into claws which grabbed at her eldest brother's shirt.

"Chrissie. Chrissie, sweetheart, can you hear me," the seventeen year old said, alarm and angst chocking his voice. "Please answer me."

The spasms continued, growing stronger and stronger. Sweat glistened on Chrissie's forehead and beads began rolling down her temples.

"Dad, how much further till we're there?" asked Sam, taking a hold of Chrissie's shaking legs, trying to control the horrid tremors.

John glanced briefly in the rear view mirror, his foot hard on the gas, knuckles becoming white as he clutched onto the steering wheel.

"The hospital is ten minutes away" he answered.

"Step on it," the thirteen year old commanded. "We needed to be there like ten minutes ago."

The brothers' gasped in unison as Chrissie's eyes creaked open, and instead of the normal vibrant green, her eyes were white.

"Chrissie, come on," implored the eldest, holding her face in his hands as she proceeded to snarl out foam. His gaze drifted to his father. "Her eyes. There rolled into the back of her head. Dad, please, hurry!"

The foam bubbled, dripping down her chin, tiny primal growls wheezed from her throat. Suddenly, the seizure stopped and Chrissie went limp once more.

* * *

The family charged into the emergency room once they finally reached the hospital, the eldest carried the now motionless five year old with Sam close behind him.

"Help! Help! I need help!," shouted John. "My daughter needs some help over here!"

A gurney zoomed into view, the staff bustling with activity as they took the child from her family as wheeled her away through the double door and into the triage room. Muted and slurred voices echoed within Chrissie's mind. Curious about the identity of these voices and sounds, Chrissie fluttered her eyes open.

She was then greeted by a host of strange and unfamiliar faces, who kept poking and prodding her. A light was shone in her dilated eyes, causing her to squirm. It dawned on her, she was completely alone. A heartbreaking wail ripped from her voice box, shattering the medical staffs' ear drums.

"Sweetheart, calm down we're just going to look at you and make sure your okay" assured a nurse, wearing blue scrubs.

"Brother says she was foaming at the mouth in the car" stated a male nurse.

"Okay, lets get her in to trauma room 1" returned the female nurse.

The realization that she was alone, broke the little girl's heart. Even Goober had abandoned her.

Meanwhile, through the double door, John could only listen to the wails of his only daughter as he waited with his sons'. Distressed at hearing his baby sister cries of despair, Dean ventured over to the double door, ready to burst through.

"I can't stand to hear her cry," he said, eyes glazing over with emotion. "She needs someone she knows with her."

John pulled his first-born away from the double door and guided him over to a chair next to his younger brother. Sam's head was buried in his hands. The seventeen year old sat down, biting his bottom lip furiously. After a minute, the youth excused himself and began wandering along the corridor as tears clouded his vision. Knowing that he was going to crack any second, he rushed into the nearest men's restroom.

The restroom was empty which relieved the teenager as he entered the first cubicle he saw. Succumbing to grief, he slumped against the cubicle door. Slowly he slid down the door, as the tears finally spilled from his green eyes. His shoulders shuddered with sorrow as he began to cry. Bringing his knees to his chest, the seventeen year old wept.

"Oh Mom, I so wish you were here," he cried. "You would know how to help calm Chrissie. You would also know how keep the rest of us calm while we wait on her here."

The youth buried his face his arms, tears streaming from his eyes, his heart shattered.

"Oh Mom, I miss you so much," whispered the tearful seventeen year old. "If I had only been looking after her better she wouldn't be hurt. We don't know if it was from the bump. Maybe the ghost did something to her, but I know. If you were here you could make everything right."

A shiver down his spine caused the youth to gaze up. There, crouched next to him was his mother, Mary.

"Mom," he uttered in awe and shock. "Is it really you?"

Mary nodded her head, blonde hair tumbling over her slender shoulders, her eyes soft and caring.

"Yes, sweetheart, it is me" she said, tenderly caressing his face with a cold hand.

The teenager leaned into his mother's hand, his face crumpling with overwhelmed anguish. This couldn't be real. It was impossible.

"I've missed you so much," said Mary. "Your brother and sister too. I heard you calling for me. That's why I came to you."

Dean pulled away from his ghostly mother, hastily wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"This is all in my head" he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I am here for you because you called for me," said Mary. "Son, please tell me why you called for me?"

Dean shook his head again.

"You'll hate me if I tell you" he admitted, mournfully.

Mary's eyes became doleful as she gazed at her first-born. He was only twelve years old last time she saw him. Now, he was an adolescent, on the very edge of manhood.

"No, of course, I won't," replied Mary. "I'm your mother and I love you. Now, tell me what's wrong."

"It's Chrissie," returned the teenager, bowing his head in shame. "I've messed up."

"How could you have messed up?," questioned Mary, an expression of concern on her elegant face. "She is your sister, and _your _her brother. You love each other. I don't understand?"

"She's hurt," the youth said, chocking on a sob. "It's my fault."

Mary sighed, her heart aching for her boy.

"Of course it's not your fault," she said, trying to assure the youth. "How could it be? It was nobody's fault. It was just an accident, and accidents happen."

Dean swallowed thickly, the lump in his throat bloated to an incredible size, making him sound broken.

"Where you there that day?," asked the teenager, referring to the accident. His mother tilted her head, perplexed. ""If you where there that day, why didn't you protect her. You always said 'angels are watching over you', I didn't see or hear anything."

Sorrow glazed in the teen's green eyes. He bit his bottom lip, drawing blood. Mary smoothed his hair with her hand.

"Yes, I was watching over you all from above," she replied. "I did help and protect her. I gave you the energy to sense she was in danger, for you to save her." Her hand rested on the back of his neck, their foreheads touched. "It is up to you, your brother, and your Dad to look out for your little sister, and each other as well."

"Dad," scoffed Dean. "He wasn't there. He never is. It's my responsibility to look out for Chrissie and Sam."

"Baby, your only seventeen," Mary reminded him. "Your still a teenager and still very young. What are you doing looking after your brother and sister? Yes, it's your job as the eldest to help look after them, but _your_ _dad _is the parent, not _you_."

Mary cupped her son's face in her hands, a small sad smile on her beautiful face.

"It will be alright. Your sister will be alright," she soothed. "Since I am dead, I can sense when people I know and love are coming to join us, up in Heaven," she swiped some of the tears that glided down her son's face with her thumbs. "Your sister, it's not her time yet, so don't worry, she will be just fine, a little shaken up maybe, but just fine. You always were my brave baby boy."

Her tone caused the youth to panic, his gaze focused on his mother's face.

"Stay, please. Don't leave us," begged the teenager, his voice wavering with emotion as he grasped his mother's wrists. "Don't leave me. Not again."

"Dean, my boy, my brave, brave boy, don't worry. I will always be with you. In here," she whispered, pointing to his heart. "I'll always be watching out for you and looking over you, your brother and sister. Just remember I'm all around you, in you, your brother, and your sister."

Mary then helped him climb to his feet. She gazed at her son with maternal pride and love, as she Mary's caressed his tear streaked cheek, bestowing him a kiss on the forehead.

Unable to hold back any longer, the teenager pulled his mother into a fierce hug. If he held onto her, she wouldn't have to leave. Mary returned the gesture, before pushing back slightly so she could see his face again.

"Please, Mom," implored Dean, desperate for his mother to remain in his presence. "Don't leave me."

"I'll always be with you," returned Mary, holding his face in her hands. "Help your father take care of your brother and sister. Tell them all I love them. Angels' are watching over you."

Mary then noticed she was being to fade, time had ran out. Tearfully she gazed at her son.

"I have to go now, sweetheart," she uttered sadly, as her image became translucent. "I love you."

Then in a blink of an eye, she was gone. Again. The teenager stood shivering, tear rolling down his face. Slowly he wandered out the cubicle and ventured towards the sink, were he managed to compose himself and wash his face. After all, he had a reputation to hold onto. He then left the restroom and wandered back to find his family.

* * *

The Winchesters' waited another hour until the doctor emerged from the double doors. As she walked towards them, a clipboard in her hand, the males rose to their feet, eager for news on the youngest member of the family.

"Are you Christina Winchester's father?" she inquired John, to which nodded.

"Yes," replied John, he peered at the swinging doors the doctor had appeared from. "What's wrong? Is she alright?"

The boys' held their breathes in anticipation, praying the news was good, hoping nothing had went horribly wrong.

"We had to sedate your daughter," explained the doctor. "She was very distressed and was making it hard for the medical team to examine her. Normally when the patient is so young, we usually don't give them sedative, except for certain circumstances."

John ran a hand through his dark hair and rubbed his stubbly chin, he nodded.

"It's not unusual for people to suffer seizure through a concussion injury," the doctor added, flicking through her notes. "We did some tests and everything was fine. She will be dazed and confused for the next few days, so keep an eye on her. Make sure she drinks plenty of fluids too. There was also bandaging around her left wrist, but when we investigated, we found no trace of injury."

The brothers' glanced at each other, frowns upon their faces. How can a large swollen purple bruise just disappear?

"Cut to the chase," interrupted John. "Is she alright?"

"She's fine," reassured the doctor. "We took her up to Pediatrics, she's in room 4a."

With this information, the family rushed off to find the children's ward and to find Chrissie.

Nestled underneath a clean bed sheet, head resting on a white pillow, fluffy brown hair spread across it, was Chrissie. The bruise that had spread across her left wrist was gone, just as the doctor said. Her small chest rose up and down as she slept. The males entered quietly, making sure they didn't disturb the little girl, who was sleeping peacefully.

She looked so vulnerable as she lay in the hospital bed, an ugly looking IV drip was pinned into the vein in the crook of her right arm. Each member of the family planted a kiss on the child's forehead, hushing words of comfort to her. All they could do after that, was to keep vigil over her, until she awaken.

Another hour passed, the room filled with an eerie silence, that is until a tiny wince entered the sound waves. Chrissie was awake.

Fluttering her eyes open, the five year old blinked several times in order to regain her focus. Three concerned faces were there to greet her on her awakening.

Moaning, the little girl wrinkled her nose and forehead in discomfort. She glanced at the faces staring down at her, and reached out with her right arm, a hand caught hold of it, kisses were then pecked on the back of her hand.

"Hey, sweetheart," crooned Dean, planting another kiss on the back of her hand, before leaning forward in his chair to stroke her pale cheek. "You feeling better now?

The older siblings smiled to themselves, ecstatic that the youngest was finally awake.

"I hoped you weren't gonna sleep all day," added Sam with a smirk. "If you did, then I would have been stuck with Dean all day."

The eldest playfully rapped the middle sibling on the arm due to the last statement. The older teenager kept a hold of the child's hand, gesturing his affection for her by rubbing tiny circles with the pad of his thumb on the back of her hand.

The corners of Chrissie's mouth tugged in reaction to the sensation of contact. Her vision was still foggy, resulting in her blinking once again. She wriggled slightly, crinkling the bed sheet she was underneath, she grimaced.

"Oooowwww," she whined softly, tears glistening in her green eyes. "Hurts."

John moved forward in his chair too, smoothing his little girl's hair.

"I know it does, baby," he murmured. His eyes examining her fragile, underweight frame. "Just be brave, and the pain will pass."

The males watched as her eyes darted about the room, confused about the unfamiliar environment she was in.

"Where we at?," she asked, her behaviour timid. "I no like it."

The eldest kissed the child's hand again, in an attempt to calm her. He smiled down at her.

"Hospital, sweetie," he told her. "You hit your head, remember. But your gonna be okay now."

Chrissie felt the back of her head, and on finding the fat lump, she winced.

"Lay still, honey," instructed John. "Your still kinda sleepy."

Chrissie nodded and obeyed her father's command.

Half an hour later, after trying to tell her not to touch the IV drip in her arm, Chrissie was fast sleep once again. The middle sibling had then wandered off in search of a vending machine, whilst John went to find the nearest rest room.

This granted the eldest the opportunity to climb up next to his baby sister and to hold her in his arms while she slept. The little girl wriggled in her sleep.

"Sssssh, it's okay," he hushed her, noticing she was merely cuddling into him. "Everything is gonna be alright, sweetheart."

Later, when Sam and his father reappeared, the witnessed a sight which brought a sad smile on their faces. A tiny five year old girl, snuggled into a muscular seventeen year old boy, both sound asleep.

* * *

**Yes, I know, how can I put a wee kid through such pain and suffering. And as cruel as it sounds, I like writing scared/angst/upset/hurt Chrissie**

**Do you like scared/angst/hurt Chrissie? Should there be more? Any ideas or requests just PM me. **

**Anyways, it's almost 3am, UK time, I need my sleep :) **

**This chapter was tricky to write and it took alot of brainstorming and planning from both myself and brittpage21.**

**Be kind and constructive. **

**Please review! (or else Chrissie will cry and Dean will be pissed)**


	30. Separation and Refuge Part 1

**Thanks for your reviews so far! *dances to Eye of the Tiger whilst throwing confetti and wearing a tan trenchcoat* **

**Give a wave and a cheer for brittpage21 (co-writer of this chapter along with part 2)**

**Just a word of warning, this chapter contains heavy angst and hurt and mentioning of attempted abuse/assualt**

* * *

Sam smiled as he and his father entered his sister's room at the hospital.

"It's like a mouse next to a lion," he whispered.

"Yeah, totally," replied John, sitting back down in his chair next to his daughter's allocated bed. "It seems so sweet and harmless. It would just seem wrong to disturb them."

They were referring to Chrissie and Dean cuddled up next to each other, sound asleep, their chests' rising and falling in perfect unison. Sam sat down on the other side of the bed.

"I never realized before," began the thirteen year old. "But their almost identical."

"Now that you mention it, yeah, they do look the same," returned John, gazing at his sleeping children. "I can see Dean at that age sometimes when I look at Chrissie."

"It's the eyes," remarked the younger teenager. "And that smile."

It was true, the eldest and the youngest shared similar characteristics. Striking green eyes combined with a stubborn yet mischievous attitude, even down to the details of the freckles on their faces. Only thing that was different was hair color.

"Yeah, I'd have to totally agree with you there" said John.

After several minutes, the older teenager began to stir. Once opening his eyes and blinking in order to regain his focus.

"How long was I out for?," asked the seventeen year old with a grunt. He blinked again, glancing at his father and brother. "When did you two get here?"

He paused, noticing the smirk spreading on Sam's face: he pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

"You were watching me sleep, weren't you?" sighed Dean, to which his brother nodded and laughed slightly. Embarrassed, the older teen tried to explain himself. "What's so funny? Why were you watching me sleep? I was just laying down with the kid to make her less scared. I must have just fallen asleep myself."

A snigger spluttered from Sam's lips. It was so typical for his brother to defend his tough as old boots, bad boy reputation.

"It was adorable," the thirteen year old teased. "Goober would have completed the look."

"Haha, very funny" retorted Dean, shooting him a glower. Carefully he slid himself off the bed, he then indicated to the still slumbering child. "Just let her sleep some more. I'm gonna go hit the head. I'll be back in a few minutes."

The seventeen year old departed from the room quietly, in his search for another rest room. John observed his peaceful daughter.

"Dad, when we get her out of here, are we gonna get another motel?," inquired Sam. "I'm afraid she's gonna be scared out of her wits to go back to the one we are in now."

John sighed wearily.

"It didn't harm her. Did it? The spirit?," he asked. His younger son's confused expression brought him to add further details. "I knew the presence of a child would attract it to the room, I needed to distract it in order to find and burn it's bones."

"So, you _did _use Chrissie as bait to get to the spirit!," said Sam, in sheer outrage and disbelief. "I can't believe you! What would Mom think of this? I can't even look at you right now!"

The thirteen year old then got up from his chair and moved it from the end of the bed to the side of the bed. John rose and tried to walk over to the young boy.

"Don't even think about it Dad!," hissed Sam. "Keep your distance!"

John held back, an expression of guilt on his face.

"Son, please, you'll wake your sister" said John, nodding towards the little girl.

Sam tried to calm down while he sat beside his sister, taking a deep breath, fighting the urge not to scream.

"Please, Dad, just stay over there," he said. "At least until Dean gets back."

As if on cue at that moment, Dean walked in.

"Am I interrupting?" the older teenager queried, with a raised eyebrow, noticing the expression his brother's face.

"Not here, we don't want to wake up Chrissie," replied the thirteen year old, getting up and joining his brother at the door. "Let's talk out in the hallway."

The eldest nodded, his mind foggy with concern and confusion. The brothers then walked out of the room. Once the door was closed behind them, the older teenager looked for answers.

"So what's up?," he asked, folding his arms. "Did you and Dad have another fight?"

"Well, sort of," admitted Sam. "I asked him that after we get Chrissie out of the hospital, if we were gonna get another hotel, because Chrissie will probably be too scared to go back to the one we are at now."

The younger teenager was rushing his words as his emotions began flaring.

"Whoa, whoa, settle down," returned Dean, shaking his brother by the shoulders gently. "This is _me _you're talking to, not Dad. You don't have to be so loud."

"Sorry," apologized Sam. "He looked guilty as hell. Also, the presence of a child would attract the spirit to the room, claiming that he needed to distract it in order to find and burn his bones. So, in other words, he _did _use Chrissie to get to the spirit."

The brothers' stared at each other, sharing the same look of disgust and horror.

"Oooh!" snarled the eldest, in outrage. "If Chrissie wasn't in the room right now, I'd tear him limb from limb!"

"I then told him how would Mom think about this?" Sam added.

"You brought up Mom?" questioned Dean.

"Yes, Dean, how _would _Mom think of her daughter being used as bait to capture a spirit?" the thirteen year old pointed out.

"True, touché" returned Dean, with a nod.

"I don't know what I would do if it harmed her," commented Sam, his tone riddled with concern and dread. "It makes me feel sick just thinking about it."

"Oh my God," groaned Dean, pinching the bridge of his nose, his tone of voice was identical to his brother's. "What if it _did_? Ah Jesus, no, please no."

"For her sake, and our own," added Sam. "I hope she doesn't understand what's happening."

"Yeah, you and I both," sighed Dean, he then nudged his brother. "C'mon, we better head back inside."

The brothers' returned to their baby sister's room and resumed their watchful guard over her fragile, sleeping form.

"Dad, we may have a problem," stated Dean, glancing at his father from across the bed, he swallowed. "If the spirit did get to her, we need to get her to a specialist doctor that knows of hunting. We need to get her out of here as soon as possible and to that specialist, just to make sure."

John nodded in agreement, his eyes returned to his daughter, still sleeping. _My Angel_, _my beautiful baby girl, and I caused her all this trauma. You know something Winchester, you're a dick! You don't deserve her_, John harshly told himself.

The bed sheet began to move, and a soft whine came from the slumbering five year old's lips. Sensing she was about to wake up, the brothers' inched closer to her bedside. Sam clasped her hand and squeezed it gently, encouraging her to wake up.

"Shhhhh, baby, your alright," crooned Dean, stroking the side of her pale face. "You wanna wake up now. Open those pretty little eyes for us. Huh?"

Chrissie's face crinkled as she let out a tiny whimper. Two fat tear drops slid down her cheeks from her closed eyes. Her forehead creased into a frown.

"Come on, sweetheart," encouraged the eldest sibling. "The sooner you wake up, the sooner we get outta here."

On the last statement, her eyelids fluttered open. Her family was relieved on seeing her dazzling green eyes once again: it was as if her eyes offered a beacon of hope as they generated a sense of glowing happiness and innocence.

"Hey, how you feeling?," said Dean, compressing a hand to her forehead. "You feel better?"

Chrissie gazed up at him groggily and shrugged, unsure about her physical or mental health. Sam looked over at her, a small smile on his face. John got up from his chair and joined Dean on his side.

"Hey, baby girl," he said, his voice gruff. "Glad to see you finally woke up."

Chrissie flinched as John grazed her face with the back of his hand. She whimpered loudly and huddled under the bed sheet, accidentally yanking the IV drip from the crook of her arm. She squealed with the sudden pain.

"Oh, Chrissie, sweetheart, shhhh, calm down," hushed Dean, stroking the side of her tear streaked face. "It's just Dad."

The trembling little girl just wailed, an expression of pain painted on her face as tears flowed freely. A red stain was now appearing on the mattress, it soon dawned on the eldest what the substance was as he saw his baby sister holding her arm.

"Oh God!," he exclaimed. "Her IV has come out!"

Unable to stand his younger sibling in pain, Sam made a dash for the door but was stopped by his father.

"I'll go," declared John. "You stay here with your brother and help keep Chrissie calm."

The five year old continued to cry as John departed in order to grab a hold of a professional who could handle the situation. She gawped in horror at the bleeding area at the crook of her thin arm.

"Hey, Chrissie, why don't we play a game so you don't think about your arm? Huh?" suggested Sam, using his gift of quick thinking.

Chrissie shook her head.

"Oooowwww" she whined tearfully.

"Shhh, Shhh, calm down," the eldest assured. "It's gonna be okay. Daddy's gone to get the doctor, and the doctor will make it all better."

Chrissie's tears continued to pour down in a salty torrent, her lips quivering alongside her shoulders as her breathe was becoming hitched as she vainly tried to control her emotions.

"I no like doctors. They touch me!" wept the little girl.

The eldest of the trio climbed up onto the bed and embraced his upset little sister, pulling her onto his lap as he sat cross legged on the bed, his arms around her torso as she leaned back into him.

"Shhh, sweetheart," he soothed, smoothing her fluffy brown hair. "We won't let them hurt you. They just want to make you all better. We won't let them touch you for long, I promise."

Just then John came back into the room with the doctor. Doctor walked over toward Chrissie on Sam's side of the bed.

"Well, well, well," the dark haired doctor started. "Your daddy here tells me you accidentally pulled out your IV. Let's see that arm of yours, huh?"

Chrissie flinched as the doctor moved closer, reaching for her bleeding arm.

"No! No!" barked Chrissie, cowering away. "You no touch!"

Chrissie whipped her head up towards her big brother, hugging him for reassure, to which he held her chin up to meet his eyes with his fingers.

"Chrissie, don't worry," he said gently. "The doctor is going to make it all better so it won't hurt. Okay."

Chrissie stared at him, not knowing what to think. The seventeen year old smiled down at the worried child.

"I won't let him hurt you," he told her. "Didn't I already tell you, I promised I wouldn't let him hurt you."

Chrissie glanced at the doctor and as she screwed her eyes, she offered her arm. The doctor replaced the IV drip with a fresh, sterile one, and taped it back into place.

"Now, see, did that really hurt?" said the eldest, nudging the child in his arms.

Scowling, Chrissie nodded, her gaze the doctor, who was busy talking to her father.

"Chrissie, come on, it didn't hurt that bad," remarked Dean with a slight chuckle. "Now, how about we play a game like Sam said earlier. Would you like that? Huh?"

The child shook her head, and curled into him, aware of her IV drip.

"Then what do you wanna do?," questioned Dean. "We'll do anything you wanna do. You name it."

Chrissie looked up at him and then looked at Sam who nodded in agreement. Frustrated, Chrissie shook her head again.

"No," she grumped moodily. "I no wanna play games."

"What do you wanna do then?" asked Dean, nudging her again.

Chrissie didn't respond, and she shoved her thumb in her mouth. Her eyes glazed with sorrow.

"Okay, sweetie, don't worry," returned the seventeen year old, hugging the little girl tightly. "We should get ya outta here soon anyways. Then we can do lots of things together."

He was aware of the doctor talking to his father at the corner of the room, the doctor scribbling the occasional notes as he shot the odd glance at Chrissie.

"I'm afraid I have to ask you some questions, Mr. Winchester" announced the doctor, looking at John directly.

"What's that?" asked John, with a raised eyebrow, his chest tightening.

"This may be personal but I have to ask," started the doctor, his voice hushed and low. "How would you describe your relationship with your daughter?"

"I love my daughter," stated John, trying not to sound too offended. "We get along very good."

The doctor nodded his head.

"Are you involved with her daily routines and activities?," continued the doctor. "How much time do you spend with her?"

John knew he would have to lie through his teeth in order to avoid being lectured by some medical professional. He wishes he didn't have to lie.

"Yes all the time" replied John.

The doctor nodded and looked up from his notes that he had jotted down on his clipboard.

"You're a single parent, yes?" questioned the doctor.

"Yes," John replied, his heart racing. "Her mother died when she was just a baby. We don't like to talk of her very much, especially around Chrissie since she is still very young."

The doctor took more notes, he cleared his throat.

"It's come to my attention that your daughter is underweight. Does she eat a balanced diet?" interrogated the doctor.

John looked surprised and glanced at his children.

"I try my best to give my children all the food and nourishment they need," commented John, returning his attention back to the doctor. "I have no clue why she's underweight."

He knew why. It was because he had a tendency to leave his small daughter home alone whilst training his sons'. Usually there was very little or no food to feed herself, so she would normally go hungry.

The doctor took more notes then paused: he sighed and leaned into John. "The medical staff have found numerous large bruises on your daughter's body, particularly around the groin and pelvic area," said the doctor, he raised an eyebrow. "Do you have any idea how these injuries could have happened?"

John's chest tightened even further, his heart rate increasing by the second.

"No, I have no idea," he insisted, mortified, to which he added with a snarl. "Just because I don't know doesn't give you the right to judge and accuse. Don't go blaming me or my boys! We all love Chrissie very much. We would _never _harm her! Ever!"

Chrissie whimpered at the sound of her father's raised voice. The doctor glanced at her with concern, before returning his gaze back at John.

"Well, we never would think that Mr. Winchester," assured the doctor. "Now, does your daughter get a lot of interaction with children her own age?"

"We move around a lot," admitted John. "Most times she doesn't like socializing with other children."

The doctor nodded curtly and smiled slightly John, glancing over his notes and Chrissie. He cleared his throat again.

"Thank you, well now I think that about sums it up," stated the doctor, tucking the clipboard under his arm. "I will be back later to check on her."

The doctor was about to move before John stopped him at the doorway.

"Hey doc, how soon will we be able to get her outta here?" asked John.

The doctor glanced at the haggard father.

"It's best if she stayed here," explained the doctor. "We just need to observe her some more. I will be back later."

"No doctor," John pressed, desperate to leave the enclosed environment. "We really need to get her out now. We really need to be moving on."

The doctor narrowed his eyes, his suspicions about the small family growing ever more. Without replying to the father's request, the doctor left the room without a word.

John walked over to his children, his voice now riddled with urgency and panic.

"We have to get out of here, now," he announced. His sons' glanced at him and each other in surprise. Come on, unhook your sister. We'll find a band aid for her arm. Let's go!"

Sam raised a quizzical eyebrow. His shaggy hair sticking up, due to him constantly running his hands through it.

"What's going on?" he asked, rising from his chair.

"The doctor is suspecting something and I think he has gone to call Social Services on me," replied John, yanking his arms through his jacket sleeves. "They could try to take you away from me and we can have that. Now, come on, let's go! Dean, grab your sister. Sammy, grab her bag."

Sam and Dean were stunned and gazed at each other for a second or two.

"Now!" barked John, and with that the boys' moved from their current positions.

Chrissie became stiff and cowered at her father's tone. Her eyes wide with fear, as she lay huddled in the centre of the bed on her own since her brother moved. John noticed that his behaviour was frightening his daughter.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," apologized John, his voice now gentle yet still troubled. "I didn't mean to scare you. Daddy's very, very sorry."

The five year old was confused as her brothers' began bustling around the room. She whimpered as the IV was pulled out from the crook of her arm by Dean, causing blood to swell up from the puncture in the skin. Hurt by this action, she gazed at her brother for an explanation.

"Shhh, Shhh, It's okay, baby," consoled the seventeen year old, rubbing her back in comfort. "We will get ya a band aid for your arm when we get to a motel. Don't worry."

"We gotta go, kiddo," commented Sam as he grabbed her pajamas from her duffle bag that he had dumped at the bedside. "You don't worry about anything. You just listen to us and do whatever we think is best, okay?"

Chrissie was then taken from the warmth of the bed and placed onto the floor: she shivered as her bare feet touched the cold floor.

"C'mon, honey, we gotta get you changed," said Dean, taking the child's pajamas from the middle sibling. He crouched down to her level on his haunches. "Lift your arms for me."

Eyes still wide with confusion on what was the sudden commotion was, Chrissie obeyed her brother and lifted her arms. The older teenager eased the light blue hospital gown over his sister's head. An expression of horror and concern was painted on his face as his eyes traveled over his baby sister's naked form. Purple bruises decorated her body, from her arms to her legs but most worryingly were the bruises that spread across her groin. _Jesus Christ! What the hell is this! _the older teenager cursed mentally. A faded yellow nightgown was then slipped over the child's form, covering her bruises.

John was at the doorway, keeping a watchful eye out for any medical staff that might pose as a threat to their escape. Dean scooped the little girl up into his arms whilst Sam slung the duffle bag onto his shoulder, and the trio followed their Dad along the empty corridor.

"Just lay your head down on my shoulder," the eldest instructed Chrissie, who was puzzled as they rushed along the Pediatric Ward, he pulled her head into his shoulder. He added with a comforting whisper. "I know you don't feel good, sweetheart, but we'll make it all better soon. Just not here."

Chrissie inhaled her brother's familiar scent and squashed her cheek against his shoulder.

"Doctor say I not to go." mumbled the little girl.

"Well, we gotta go," replied the seventeen year old as they ventured around the corner. "Don't worry; we will get you a better doctor to see you, somewhere else. You trust me, Sammy, and Daddy right?"

"Uh huh" said Chrissie, her voice muffled by her thumb that she was sucking.

As the family dashed down the corridor, a yell caused them to spin around briefly. It was the doctor.

"Stop! Security!" he shouted.

The following moments were like the scenes of an action movie as they ran for the elevator. Two large security guards charged after them, they then had to resort to race down the stairs to catch up with the family, who had now disappeared into the elevator. Chrissie's stomach flipped somersaults as her eldest brother ran along the corridors with her in his arms.

Thankfully the family made it out and dashed towards the car in the parking lot, security hot on their heels. John hopped in the driver's seat as Sam opened the back door allowing Dean to climb in the back with Chrissie still firmly in his arms. Sam then hopped into the backseat himself with her bag. They slammed all the doors shut. The security guards appeared in the parking lot as John put the key in the ignition. With a purr of the engine, the car became animated as it reversed, before speeding away out the parking lot.

Quivering with shock, Chrissie gripped onto her brother with all her strength.

"Don't worry, baby," soothed Dean as he rocked her back and forth. "We're getting out of here and we'll get you some place safe and warm soon."

"Why did we run away?" the little girl asked with a hurt and confused expression. "Was I bad?"

"No, no, of course not, sweetheart," replied the seventeen year old, cupping her chin with his fingers. "You are the best, most well behaved girl I've ever known. You don't worry about it. You let Daddy, me, and Sammy, but mostly Daddy, worry about it, okay."

He pressed a kiss on her forehead and hugged her warmly, as Sam raided her duffle bag.

"Hey, Chrissie, guess who I got for you?" the thirteen year old said, his hands behind his back.

"Who?" questioned Chrissie, intrigued.

Sam then produced Goober from behind his back, making the patchwork teddy bear wave at the little girl, making her smile. Chrissie took her stuffed companion into her grasp and hugged the stuffed toy with all her might whilst leaning back into Dean.

As the car sped along the highway, Chrissie hugged Goober to her chest, nose pressed into the patchwork material. As she wriggled in her brother's arms, her nightgown snagged slightly, exposing her thigh. On the skin was a huge bruise.

"What on earth!," exclaimed Dean, inspecting the bruise, her gazed at his sister and pointed at the mark on her leg. "Chrissie, what happened? Where did that come from?"

The little girl glanced down at it, she remained silent as she squeezed her teddy.

"Chrissie, please, honey, you gotta answer me?," the eldest probed, eager to find out the cause of the bruise. "We gotta know what's wrong so we can help you, and know what to tell the better doctor."

The five year old's bottom lip quivered, unable to face her brother she buried her face into Goober, chocking on a small sob.

"Oh, sweetheart, please don't cry," begged the older teenager. "Please, baby, we don't want you upset. We just need to know how you got hurt."

The Impala pulled into the family's current motel, and John and Sam leapt out in order to gather the remaining belongings they owned, leaving Dean and Chrissie alone in the backseat.

"I can't tell you," Chrissie whispered, tears dripping down her face. "The man says I get in trouble if I tell."

"You trust me don't you? Huh?" asked the seventeen year old, to which Chrissie nodded. "Then you know I will never ever let anything bad happen to you. So if the man comes he will have to get through me, Daddy, and Sammy first before he gets you. Don't you worry, nothing bad is going to happen to you. So please tell me how you got it. It's really important you tell me."

No matter how many times the teenager swiped away the tears rolling down his beloved sister's face, the tears continued to pour.

"He hurt me," wept the little girl. "You not here when he hurt me."

Goober the teddy bear bore the brunt of the tears, the material on the stomach was becoming soaked.

"Who hurt you, sweetheart?," asked Dean, cupping her face in his hands. "The man you saw that you saw in the bathroom? Or was it the man from the accident at the lake?"

"The man in there" replied the five year old, pointing at their motel room door.

"You don't have to worry about him anymore, baby," soothed Dean, pained at seeing his sister suffer. "Daddy took care of him. He's gone forever. He won't be coming back."

The child continued to cry.

"He hurt me," she repeated, her gaze focused on her brother. "You not there when he hurt me. Where were you?"

_Training on how to deal with a nest of vampires _stated Dean in his head, cursing himself for not being there to protect his baby sister, but their father had forced him. This event had happened two nights ago, and come to think of it, Chrissie was pretty silent on their return. He became concerned as it might be involving the demon that tried to drown her.

"Chrissie, this wasn't the man that you saw in the bathroom with Sammy, was it?" he questioned her.

"It was man in there!," she stated, growing more and more upset as she pointed once again at the motel room door. "In there! In there!"

The five year old covered her face with Goober as she sobbed, her tiny heart shattering with each tremble the sobs delivered.

"Who was it tell me? Please?," begged her brother, now desperate. "I don't know who the man in there is. Was it Daddy?"

"No," wept Chrissie. "It the man in picture, the one I drew for Sammy."

The eldest cradled the distraught child in his arms and rocked her back and forth.

"That was the man you saw in the bathroom, then I told you, you don't have to worry about him anymore," he reminded her. "Daddy took care of him."

In the motel room, whilst gathering their belongings, John noticed the bizarre crayon drawing. He picked it up and observed it.

"What is this?" he asked Sam.

"Chrissie drew this when she was breaking down," the thirteen year old replied. "She said that it was the man she saw in the bathroom, that I couldn't see, but when we described it to you, you said you got rid of him already."

Back in the car, Chrissie's heart was shattering more and more.

"You, Sammy and Daddy not here other night," she said whilst shaking her head. More tears spurted down her face. "You not here! He was! He hurt me!"

"Oh Chrissie, I am so sorry," the teenager apologized, realizing what the child was referring to. "I promise, we will never leave you alone ever again."

He then planted a kiss on her forehead, an action which cause her to flinch and cower away. Just then John and Sam returned and got into the car and were shocked to see Chrissie moving away from Dean, tears streaming from her eyes.

"What's going on here?," demanded John, peering over his shoulder at the event in the backseat. "What did you say to her? Why is she trying to get away from you?"

The five year old crawled over to the middle sibling, Goober in her clutches.

"Bad man in bathroom hurted me, Sammy, you, Daddy and Deanie not there" she said tearfully, then she suddenly began slapping Sam on the arm, her slaps were weak.

"Chrissie, Chrissie, calm down," said Sam, taking hold of her hands in order to stop her. The younger teenager was stunned, he gazed at his older brother. "What is she meaning? I don't understand?"

Dean sighed.

"She is meaning two days ago when we left her in the motel alone when the three of us were out training" he explained.

The seventeen year old glanced at his father, anger building up inside him.

"Dad, we need to talk. Outside" he said, through gritted teeth.

Father and son exited the car and they walked over to the curb, a little bit away so they couldn't heard by the two remaining siblings. The anger boiled, bubbled then erupted.

"I swear if that son of a bitch harmed her, I'm takin' them to Bobby's," growled the seventeen year old, pointing a finger at his father. He then shoved him. "This is all your fault!"

He had forgotten who he was speaking to.

"Don't you use that tone of voice with me, boy," his father snarled back. "And who are you talking about? The spirit? I couldn't help it. The spirit only preyed on children and if I didn't have Chrissie in the room, then we wouldn't have been able to distract him while I burned his bones! So don't you go blaming people, boy! Yes this maybe my fault, but it had to be done."

Dean was furious.

"At the risk of your own daughter!" he shouted in complete outrage.

John was fighting for his respect, but knew he was losing.

"No, of course not, I never meant to hurt Chrissie but people's lives were at stake," explained John. "We had no choice but to use Chrissie as bait, otherwise that spirit would still be out there killing children all around. I am truly sorry, but I have to save lives of people out there from the supernatural. Even if it means putting my children second."

The seventeen year old was struck dumb by his father's last statement. Shaking his head, he couldn't believe his ears.

"I can't believe what you just said," he said furiously. "Putting your children second. You are saying this job of killing things is more important than your own children. I can't believe you Dad!"

The teenager spun on his head and marched back towards the Impala.

"That's it!," he announced. "I'm taking them and we're going to Bobby's. Don't follow us!"

"Dean, please, don't, you're making a huge mistake" John shouted after his son as he raced after him.

"No, Dad, your the one that just made the mistake" hissed Dean.

"Oh and how you gonna get there?," scoffed John, folding his arms. "We only have one car and I don't intend on just handing it over to you."

The teenager turned to face his father.

"Oh, don't worry Dad, I've got money," he stated, his eyes fixed with determination. "We'll take the bus or train, or anything but we'll get there, and when we don't have money, I'll make some, somehow."

Dean then ventured closer to the car and knocked on the window. Sam looked up and Dean motioned for him to get out. Dean then opened the door.

"Hand me Chrissie," he instructed his younger sibling. He added. "Grab her bag."

Sam grabbed Chrissie's bag, still not understanding the current situation. He then climbed out and went to the back of the car. Chrissie was just as bewildered as she was scooped into her eldest brother's arm.

"Deanie, what wrong? Why we get out?" she quizzed, Goober nestled in her grasp.

"We're going on a little trip for a while. Just the three of us. Just me, you, and Sammy," her brother replied. "Daddy needs a little time alone to think about some things."

The seventeen year old shot his father a warning glance. He called to the middle sibling:

"Alright, Sammy, get our bags out of the trunk."

Sam then returned with their three bags and their bathroom bag and Chrissie's bag that had been in the back seat with them.

"Where we going? Isn't Daddy coming with us?" asked the five year old as the trio stared at the lonely road ahead.

"Daddy is having some problems that he needs to work out right now on his own," returned the eldest, holding her with one arm whilst the other carried her bag. "The three of us are going to Uncle Bobby's house for a while. Okay. Well let's get going. We got a lot of walking ahead of us."

Chrissie sniffed as she glanced back at her father over her brother's shoulder.

"Dean, please, let me see her, just for a minute" pleaded John.

The youth was hesitant but handed her over to their father.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, we'll all be back together real soon," the hunter told his small daughter. "Daddy just needs some time to work out a few things. Okay?"

An expression of sadness and confusion was etched onto Chrissie freckled face.

"Okay" she croaked.

"Now, give me a kiss goodbye" said her father.

Chrissie kissed her him on the lips then on the cheek, she then hugged his neck tightly.

"I gonna miss you Daddy" the little girl uttered sadly.

"Aw, I'll miss you too, sweetheart" replied John, kissing her back.

Dean interrupted the father/daughter moment.

"Okay, time to go," he declared, taking the five year old into his arms again only to place her on the ground. "Sweetie, we gotta carry bags. Hop on my back for awhile."

Chrissie clambered onto her eldest brother's back as Sam and their father exchanged a goodbye hug. Dean does the same, yet for the sake of his sister, not his own. The boys' picked the bags up, Sam stuffed Goober in one of the bags. They then began their journey to the bus station. John waved goodbye to them to which they returned the gesture. Then with a roar of the engine, their father was gone.

* * *

***Stands at ticket booth, promoting a boxing match between the reader and John* Anybody fancy a go at knocking him five shades of blue? *Holds out boxing gloves***

**Stay tuned for part 2! **

**Please review!**


	31. Separation and Refuge Part 2

**Part 2, once again co-written with brittpage21**

**Warning, this chapter contains angst/hurt and mentions of attempted assualt/abuse**

* * *

It took them a good half hour to get to the bus station on foot. The trio then rode to the next stop and once they arrived to the second bus station Dean decided to make a phone call.

"Sam, Chrissie, sit down right here on this bench. I am just going to be right over there," he told them, pointing to a pole no more than five feet away from them. "I'm gonna call Bobby."

The remaining two obeyed their elder sibling and sat down. After a few seconds, Sam noticed a tear in his little sister's nightgown. The thirteen year old frowned.

"Chrissie, what happened? Why is there a rip in your night gown?" he questioned.

The five year old mumbled something under her breathe, something the middle sibling couldn't register.

"Huh? I can't hear you," Sam remarked.

"The man," replied Chrissie, her voice slightly louder. "He pulled it. Tried to pull it off."

"You mean the man from the motel?," quizzed Sam, his mind going into panic mode, his sister nodded. "Ooh Chrissie, I'm soo sorry. Don't worry. Me and Dean, when we get to Uncle Bobby's, we'll get you a new pair of PJs, okay?

The frayed end of the fabric provided some sort of entertainment for Chrissie, she stretched it between her fingers.

"He not nice. He heavy" she said quietly.

"What do you mean he's heavy?" the middle sibling asked, worry increasing in his mind.

"He sat on me. He went like this," the five year old said, demonstrating by tugging at her nightgown. She then added with a tiny voice. "He touch me."

Bile rose in the thirteen year old throat, his chest tightened and his heart raced.

"He what!," the younger teenager exclaimed, terror lacing his voice. He then swallowed and dreaded the answer to his next question. "He touched you bad? Did he touch you where you go pee-pee?"

His heart and stomach dropped in unison with a thud as Chrissie nodded.

"He lift my nightie dress up" she uttered.

"Oh my God," said Sam, in disbelief and horror. "Why didn't you tell us this sooner? This could be dangerous. We need to get you to a doctor as soon as we get to Uncle Bobby's house."

Anguish was evident in the child's large green eyes.

"I no mean to, Sammy," she said, starting to cry. "He scary. He hit me when I say no."

Sam brought his weeping sister onto his lap and cradled her, trying to sooth all the grief and pain away.

"Shhh, it's going to be alright. I promise you, it will be alright," he assured, he then lifted her head up so she was looking up at him. "We're going to have to tell Dean so we can get you checked out. You know that don't you?"

Sobbing softly, Chrissie nodded.

"Okay, but for now let's just sit here quietly and wait for Dean to get finished on the phone, okay?," said Sam, tears threatening his own vision. "Then we can maybe get something to eat and drink? Huh?"

Chrissie shook her head, now sucking her thumb.

"Okay, well, just lay your head down on my shoulder for now while we wait for Dean" he added.

Sniffling, Chrissie cuddled into her brother.

Leaning against the pole, the eldest picked up the telephone after placing quarters in and dialing a familiar number.

"_Hello?_"

"Bobby, that you?"

"_Yeah, whose askin'?_"

"It's Dean. We're not that far away. We're at the nearest bus station from your house."

"_You with your Daddy? What are you doing at the bus station?_"

"No, we're not with Dad. We took a bus from our latest hunt to this bus station. It's just the three of us: Chrissie, Sammy, and me."

The teenager propped his arm up against the pole, and pressed his forehead against his arm. Anger pulsed through his bloodstream, the very mention of his father could easily trigger him into commit an act of violence. His hands curled into fists:

"We kinda had a argument over our latest hunt. We were hunting a spirit and it preyed on young children. Dad had used Chrissie as bait as a distraction so he could burn it's bones. When were parting he said he sometimes had to put his family second. I couldn't believe him, Bobby. This job is more important to him than his children."

On the other end, the hunter said:

"_Whoa, whoa, kid. Slow down. Take a deep breathe and explain to me what happened_."

The seventeen year old took a deep breathe before repeating his statement:

"We're not far from your house. We were hunting a spirit."

He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, as he listened to the man he regarded as a second father.

"_A salt and burn routine I take it. Then what, what's caused you to run away from your old man?_"

Dean nodded:

"He said the spirit we were hunting preyed on small children, so he had to use Chrissie as bait to distract the spirit while he burned it's bones. After he finished he told us we had had the spirit's old motel room. He used his _own _daughter as _bait."_

Fury rose in is throat once again, a feeling he had to swallow down bitterly and he explained his story further:

"We had had to take Chrissie to the hospital because she got hurt and was also foaming at the mouth. But after a few hours the doctor was asking Dad some questions. Dad thought that the doctor was going to call Social Services and take us away from him. Then when we got back to the motel, I stayed in the car with Chrissie. Dad and Sam when to get our stuff. When they came back out I needed to talk to Dad. That's when he told me that sometimes he had to put his family second because people's lives are at risk. He told me this job is more important to him than his own children, Bobby!"

The teen bit his bottom lip furiously, drawing blood as he brought a trembling fist to his mouth, in an attempt to stop him from screaming out in anger.

"_Alright, son, calm down. What happened to your sister? Was it serious, is she okay_?"

"She slipped in the tub and we though she had a concussion. She also had a bruise on her hand and wrist," the youth explained. "When we got her in the car she started to have a seizure and was foaming at the mouth. We don't know how it happened and we think the spirit might have something to it. That's why we had to get her out of that hospital and bring her to a specialist doctor that knows of the supernatural. The bruise on her wrist was gone by the time we reached the hospital."

The seventeen year old caught his breathe, then the memory of him discovering the bruises all over his baby sister's body when he was removing her hospital gown. Stains varying from purple to black and blue. He continued with a sigh:

"Then I noticed more bruises, all over her body. I'm just so angry I wasn't there to protect her. I just wanna know what it did to her, cos I know something happened."

Bobby groaned on the other end of the line:

"_Okay, boy, don't worry we'll figure this out. It wasn't your fault. Now, tell me one more time why you ran away from your Dad?_"

Taking a deep breathe, the youth returned with a serious answer:

"The spirit wasn't an ordinary spirit, when it was human, he was a pedophile."

"_A pedophile!_," exclaimed Bobby. "_Oh my God! It didn't, you know…"_

"Don't say it!" Dean said, cutting in. "Please. I can't. I don't wanna. I don't know."

"_Okay, boy, don't worry, we'll get her check out soon_," the older hunter assured, before adding angrily. "_I can't believe your dad. John the friggin' idjit! Using his own daughter to getting to kill a spirit. Don't worry, boy, I'm on my way. I'll be there in about 20 minutes_."

The eldest sibling wanted this nightmare to end. He didn't want to see his baby sister in pain anymore.

"Thanks, Bobby" he said, swallowing thickly.

"_Don't mention it, son,_" Bobby replied. "_I love you boys and Chrissie like you were my own._"

With a crackle, the line went dead. Dean ventured over to his siblings on the bench, it wasn't long before he noticed Chrissie was in tears as she sat on Sam's lap.

"Well, what did he say?" asked Sam.

"He's on his way to pick us up. Now what's going on?," commented the eldest sibling as he crouched down so that his gaze was leveled with his five year old sister. He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head at his younger brother. "Why is Chrissie crying? Chrissie, what's wrong, baby, is your arm hurting you more?."

He then took off his jacket and tore part of his sleeve and bandaged up the child's arm. Soft, silent tears streamed down Chrissie's freckled face regardless. As she shook her head, Dean noticed her playing with the large rip in her nightgown, his eyes widened.

"Where did this come from?," he questioned, lifting the nightgown slightly, exposing her thigh. Bruises were marked on her skin. His jaw dropped in horror. "Oh my God! Chrissie, did the man from the motel do this to you?"

His finger grazed the bruise, causing the five year old to flinch, fear etched onto her face.

"Oh God! We are gonna have to get you to a doctor fast," he stated, running his hands through his short hair. "Sweetie, when did he do this? Was it when you were alone with him?"

The brothers' were shocked as she suddenly began crawling away from them. She hopped off the bench began running away, as fast as her little legs could carry her.

"Chrissie!" the eldest yelled after her.

He commanded Sam to stay put as he dashed off in order to catch the fleeing five year old, like a bullet out of a gun. His speed took the child by surprised as he scooped her into his arms, once he caught up with her. Annoyed squeaks and squeals parted from her lips as she struggled in her brother's arms as he carried her back to the bench.

"I'm not going to let you down. You know better than to run off like that," he scolded, holding her in a vice like grip. "Young lady, I'm very disappointed in you. You should just tell us was troubling you, not run off like that."

Being reprimanded wasn't easing the five year old's mood, in fact it was making it worse. Sorrow and shame replaced her current feelings of frustration. They finally returned to Sam, Dean then sat down on the bench next to his brother, balancing Chrissie on his lap, not letting her down. Nevertheless, Chrissie continued to squeal as she tried to break free, growing more and more upset.

"Shhh, shhhh, calm down," soothed the eldest of the trio. " Don't worry, we will get you looked over and we will then know what's going on and what's wrong, as soon as Uncle Bobby get's here."

Just as that had uttered out of his mouth, he saw a truck that looked familiar to him.

"Speak of the devil, there's Uncle Bobby right, now" he added.

Catching her brothers' off guard yet again, Chrissie wriggled out of her brother's lap and charged towards the still animated truck.

"Chrissie, stop, you don't want to get run over!" the eldest squawked.

Thankfully, Bobby had noticed the child and halted the truck before it posed a threat to her safety. Relief washed over the brothers'. Bobby climbed out and picked the little girl up, who greeted him with a bear hug.

"Well, hello, little one, it's good to see you too" he chuckled.

The boys' grabbed their bags and joined Chrissie and Bobby over by the truck. Sam dropped the bags and hugged Bobby while Dean put all the bags into the back of the truck. Chrissie's feet met the dusty ground as she was placed back down, ashamed of her actions, she bowed her head as Dean and Bobby embraced. A shadow was cast over her, she knew it was her big brother, but she refused to look at him.

"It's okay, I'm not mad at you anymore," he said, getting down on his haunches and taking her hands in his. "You just need to learn to talk to us. You know better than to run off by yourself."

No response came from the child, who simply tugged at her nightgown, a miserable expression on her face.

"Baby, look at me, please" begged Dean.

Nothing. Chrissie was pulling at the bandage on her arm, and it accidentally came away. The three males gasped in shock at what was unveiled. A large red handprint had replaced the mark made by the IV drip. It was coiling around the crook of her arm. The little girl recoiled as she touched it. A certain degree of heat was being generated from the raised bruise.

"What the?," exclaimed Dean, his eyes wide with horror. "That wasn't there before. Oh God! Get in the truck, now! We gotta get her to a specialist doctor now, Bobby. Do you know of one? Please say you do!"

Bobby racked his brains, recalling ever contact and connections he knew.

Then he remembered.

"Well, I know one. She lives near Chicago," he said "I can give her a call, and she what she can do."

With Bobby in the driver's seat, the boys' climbed into the back with Chrissie in her eldest brother's lap. Dean covered his little sister's ears, attempting to shield her from further worry.

"Yes, please, by all means," commented the seventeen year old. "We have to know what is wrong with Chrissie. Please, hurry."

"Okay, I'll give her a call as soon as we get back to my place" the hunter replied as he turned the ignition on, making the truck animated once again.

As the truck sped along the road, Chrissie cried softly in her brother's lap. It resembled the whining sound a puppy makes whenever it is distressed. Her tiny fingers scratched at the red handprint, wincing as her fingernails scraped against the tender skin, yet somehow she welcomed the pain.

"Chrissie, please don't scratch at your bruises. It will only make them worse," cautioned Dean, swatting her hands away from her arm. "Please leave them alone."

As if in a daze, the five year old began rocking back and forth, tugging the hem of her nightgown, trying to cover her exposed legs. The brothers' exchanged a sad glance at each other, sharing the feeling of helplessness as they watched their baby sister disappear within herself.

"Shhh, everything will be alright," Dean assured her, holding her close to him, and stroking her brown hair. "Now, you just close your eyes and try to get some rest. We'll be at Uncle Bobby's real soon. You always have fun at Uncle Bobby's place."

Chrissie didn't respond, her fingernails clawed at the handprint once more.

"Chrissie, don't touch it, please," Dean said. "We'll figure it out when we get to Uncle Bobby's, but until then let me wrap it back up."

After reapplying the bandage around her arm, the seventeen year old wound his arms around his little sister, who was quietly crying in his embrace.

"Shhh, it's alright," he consoled. "Now, close your eyes and rest, okay."

Chrissie cuddled into her beloved idol, sobs still sending tremors around her body.

"I sorry" she wept.

"What are you sorry for? You have nothing to be sorry for," the eldest insisted, as his sister tugged at her nightgown. "None of this is your fault. We will get you some new pajamas when we get to Uncle Bobby's, okay."

"He say he had sweets," gulped the brokenhearted little girl. "But he no have sweets."

"What do you mean, sweetheart?," questioned Dean, before catching on who Chrissie was referring to. "He said he had sweets?"

"He say he had lollipop in his pocket," the five year old replied. "But I no see lollipop."

"Baby, I'm soo sorry," apologized the eldest sibling. "I'll make sure you get a lollipop if you're good for the doctor we get you to see. Okay?"

Chrissie shook her head in a negative response.

"I no like lollipops," she sniffled. "He want to give me big lollipop, a big lollipop that live in his pants."

A wave of nausea rose up within the eldest's stomach. What kind of sick freak would manipulate and abuse children? His mind raced with horrid images.

"Oh my God!," uttered the seventeen year old in remorse and horror. He hugged her tightly. "I'm soo sorry. I should have been there. Don't worry. We'll make sure this never happens again."

"He ripped my nightie gown when he try to steal it," confessed the little girl. "But I run away."

The image was as clear as glass. A fully-grown male attempting to manipulate a five-year-old girl's trust and innocence. It would make any sane person feel sick to the stomach.

"You did the right thing, baby," soothed Dean, trying to push the dark and disturbing images and ideas out of his head. "Now, no more talking about it. Close those eyes."

Hiccupping, the little girl closed her eyes, and within a few minutes the five year old was asleep in her eldest brother's arms. The brothers' observed her.

"I love how she sleeps," remarked Dean. "She looks so sweet."

Sam nodded in agreement, his eyes clouded with grief. The rest of the journey was spent in silence.

Finally, the truck pulled up outside Bobby's house. After climbing out, Sam and Bobby took care of the bags whilst Dean carried Chrissie inside. The eldest carried her upstairs and into her bedroom. It was always said that her room at Bobby's was her sanctuary, filled with the little treasures and belongings that she owned. She was placed gently onto her bed, the covers wound around her frame.

"I love you, sweetheart," crooned Dean, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Angels are watching over you."

Once putting their bags away, the boys' ventured downstairs, listening out for any signs of distress coming from their baby sister's room. They had even left her bedroom door open for their own benefit and reassurance.

Bobby gulped down a shot of whiskey as he sat at the kitchen table, reading the faded label with little interest. He wasn't alone at the table for long, when Dean slouched down onto the chair next to him, Sam occupied by Bobby's book collection in the lounge area.

"What the hell has your Dad done!" remarked the hunter in the trucker cap.

"As I said on the phone, he used Chrissie as bait and he is putting the job first before his own children," the teenager grunted in annoyance, then added with an irritated sigh. "Unbelievable!"

The older hunter slammed his palm onto the wooden tabletop, clearing not impressed.

"I know that ya idjit, I ain't senile yet!," retorted Bobby. He sighed, his gaze went towards the direction of the staircase. "That little girl upstairs is stronger than you think, you know. Hell, she ain't dumb either. She knows something's wrong."

Anger erupted within the seventeen year old, who nearly smashed the whiskey bottles into shards. His eyes blazed with fury and hurt.

"Bobby, He used his own daughter for bait!," he declared loudly. "She's five years old, for Christ sake!"

"Use that tone with me again, kid, and I'll rattle this bottle across that melon of yours" returned Bobby, snatching the bottle out of the youth's grip.

"Sorry. I'm sorry, okay," the seventeen year old apologized. "I'm just pissed with Dad right now. He's putting this job before his own family. Which isn't right, in my opinion. Family should always come first."

Sam was browsing through the book selves, scanning through a book on European Mythology. Educating himself always granted him personal freedom, he knew if he wanted to escape the life of a hunter, he had to work and perform hard. Maybe one day, he could go off to college somewhere. His thoughts were rudely interrupted by his brother.

"Hey bookworm, instead of reading, why don't you go check on our sister" commanded the eldest sibling.

The thirteen year old nodded and wandered back upstairs. On seeing his younger brother leave, Dean buried his head in his hands.

"I should've been there" uttered the youth.

"There was nothing you could have done," said Bobby. "Yes, I agree you should not have left a 5 year old alone by herself, but some things just happen."

"Not this!," hissed Dean, lifting his head from his hands, tears in his eyes, his voice threatening to crack. "Anything but this!"

Bobby placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Calm down. You need to calm down," said the older hunter. "Hey, why don't you go outside and walk around the lot and clear your mind and just enjoy the scenery outside. Or go for a drive, borrow one of my cars?"

The youth shook his head.

"No," he replied. "I need to stay here in case Chrissie wakes up. Right now, I'm really the only one she will go to."

Sam reappeared, sitting next to his older brother.

"How is she?," asked Dean. "She still asleep?"

"Only just" replied Sam.

"Okay, I'll let her sleep for a couple of hours," added Dean. "But not too long or she won't sleep tonight."

"Last time I checked, she wasn't sleeping at all" commented Sam, with a slight raised eyebrow.

"I guess your right," the elder sibling. He directed his next statement towards Bobby. "She has been having trouble sleeping."

Suddenly, a loud thud was heard from upstairs.

"Chrissie!" exclaimed the brothers' in unison.

The males shot up from their chairs and charged towards the staircase, and up each step. They burst through the child's bedroom door and into her room. Chrissie was laying in a heap at the side of her bed, tangled in the bed sheets, it was clear she had startled herself in her sleep and had fallen out of bed.

"Oh my God! Chrissie are you okay?" enquired Dean as he rushed to her side. Chrissie cocked her head at him, eyes blank. "Bobby get your ass on the phone right now and call that specialist. Now!"

Bobby hurried off without needing to be told twice. The boys' inspected the five year old for further bumps and bruises, but the child simply stared into space and for once she wasn't howling in pain. The eldest then scooped the little girl up and placed her back into her warm bed, pulling the covers over her skinny form.

"Get me her Goober teddy bear" instructed Dean towards his brother.

Sam nodded and began raiding bag belonging to his sister. His hands swam through clothes and other obstacles before he could feel the soft, stitched material of the teddy bear's stomach. Pulling it out, he then handed it to Dean, who held it behind his back.

"Hey, sweetheart, look who we got for you," he said, before producing the bizarre teddy bear. "It's Goober, your favorite teddy bear!"

The boys' frowned as Chrissie failed to respond to her faithful stuffed companion, even when the toy was tucked into her arms. Tears began to well in her green eyes which then spilled down her cheeks.

"Chrissie, please just look at me at least" begged the eldest sibling, as he climbed onto the bed.

As she blinked, more tears dripped from her eyes, her bottom lip wobbling. The five year old soon found herself in her big brother's embrace yet again, her body stiff and shivering as Dean held her close.

"Bring me another blanket" the seventeen year old said to the middle sibling.

Obediently, Sam did as he was told. Eventually he found another blanket from his room and gave it to his older brother, who then wrapped it around Chrissie.

"There you go, baby," he smiled. "That'll make you feel better and warmer."

Cocooned within the folds of the blanket, Chrissie peered up at her eldest brother, eyes wide with fear.

"Ssshhh, it's okay. Calm down," comforted the seventeen year old as he cuddled her into his chest. "Hey, you want me to tell you a story?"

Not a single word parted from the child's lips.

"Sam, go see how Bobby's doing on that phone call" said Dean.

Nodding, Sam exited the room to find Bobby. Chrissie sniffled in Dean's arms, the back of her hand wiped her seeping eyes as she tried to be brave.

"I love you so much, sweetheart" whispered Dean, stroking the side of his baby sister's face. "We are gonna find a way to get you better. You just wait and see."

Bobby knew Celia Ferguson from his early days of hunting. In fact they several encounters. He would call her if he was in the Illinois area and needed some medical attention. Bobby had a large amount of respect for this female hunter, who also served as nurse part time. It took him a great amount of time to explain every single detail about Chrissie's condition and the events surrounding it. He noticed Sam, waiting patiently near by, sitting on the arm of an old couch.

"That's the full story," said Bobby, scratching the back of his neck as he spoke down the telephone line. "How long will it be until you arrive? Cos, those kids can't survive any more torture."

"_I can be on the next plane out and be there within twelve hours_" replied the female hunter.

"Twelve hours!" groaned Bobby.

"_I'm sorry I can't be there sooner_," returned Celia. "_I'll call you when I get in and land at the airport."_

"Right. Thanks, Celia" said Bobby.

"_You bet, Bobby. See ya soon_," she said. "_I'll pack and leave right now._"

"Okay, I'll meet you at the airport as soon as you land" added Bobby, assuring a curious Sam with an odd glance and smile.

"_I'll give you a call as soon as I get to my airport and let you know when the plane lands_," Celia commented. "_Later Bobby_."

The line went dead.

"Don't worry," Bobby assured Sam, clapping a hand on the thirteen year old's shoulder. "My friend Celia is going to pack and be on the next plane. She'll be here in twelve hours."

"Yeah, I heard," replied the younger teenager. "Can't she get here any sooner"

The hunter shook his head. The pair returned to Chrissie's room to share the news with Dean.

"This better be good news" grunted the older teenager.

"Yes and no" Sam said, knowing his brother's reaction.

"What do you mean, yes and no?" the seventeen year old questioned, a frown developing on his face.

"Yes, the specialist is on her way," admitted Sam. "But no. She can't get here for another twelve hours. Sorry, man."

Dean was royally pissed.

"Look at her!," he barked, indicating the child in his arms. "We're losing her!"

"I know! I wish we could do something!," snapped Sam, his attention traveled to Bobby. He sighed. "Bobby, do you have anything that can hold her off while we wait for the specialist to get here?"

Bobby thought for a moment then nodded in a positive gesture.

"Chamomile tea might work," the hunter answered, massaging his bearded jaw line. "Folks use it to calm their nerves. It also aids sleep."

Sam recalled a teacher he had for Geography a few months previous, Mrs McKenna. Life was stressful for this forty something teacher and her lack of sleep was making her grouchy, and every lesson she would sip Chamomile tea whilst the class was busy with their work.

"Okay," nodded Dean. "We'll try it. Go fix it."

The siblings focused their attention on their baby sister, who was struggling to stay awake, her hair wild and extremely fluffy. Sam held her hand and tickled the flesh on her palm in an attempt to make her giggle.

Sweat glistened on her forehead, causing her bangs to stick like seaweed and the odd bead to trickle down her temples. The five year old wriggled and let out a very faint whimper. Dean noticed this.

"Sweetheart, don't worry your gonna get better!" Dean soothed. then looked at Sam and said, "Sam, go get me a wet wash cloth."

Sam nodded and went to the bathroom to get the wet wash cloth.

"Where are we?" asked Chrissie, blinking her way out of her daze, she gazed up at Dean.

Dean looked down at her:

"We're at Uncle Bobby's house. Remember, we were gonna spend some time at Uncle Bobby's house for a while."

Sam then returned with the wet wash cloth. He handed the wash cloth to Dean. Dean then placed the wash cloth on Chrissie's forehead.

"I dirty?" pondered the little girl in a quiet voice.

"No. sweetheart, I just want to keep you cooled down. You don't wanna get too hot, do you?" explained Dean, compressing the wash cloth to her clammy forehead.

"I dirty" repeated Chrissie.

"No, we just don't want you to get a fever that's all" her brother insisted, dabbing the cloth gently on her temples.

"Scary man say I dirty," said Chrissie with sniffle. "He say I bad and dirty. He mean, he push me on the bed."

Dean placed the wash cloth on the bedside cabinet. He took her chin and brought her face to look up at him.

"No, sweetheart, you are not dirty," said the seventeen year old, his tone gentle yet serious. "You must never think that way. I don't want you to listen to people that say things like that to you. Ever. You hear me?"

Chrissie wrinkled her nose in confusion.

"Why he say that?" she wondered aloud.

"Some people are just mean and stupid," her brother told her. "People who say mean things don't think of others and how it could hurt their feelings."

Chrissie then scowled adorably, making the boys' chuckle.

"You don't need to worry about them, Chrissie," Sam added. "We will always be here. So if you need us, you just tell us and we'll handle one of those bad guys for you, okay."

Dean looked at Sam stunned. He knew that Sam could take on bullies but he always chose to leave his home life only for hunting.

"Okay," said Dean, still a little stunned. "Well, Bobby should be back soon. He's making you something to help you calm down and help you rest some."

"Is it medicine?" grumbled Chrissie, still scowling, folding her arms as she shifts into a sitting position.

"No, it's not medicine," Dean assured before repeating. "It will just help you calm down and sleep more."

Just at that time, Bobby then briefly walked into the room with the Chamomile tea. He handed it to Sam who then gave it to Dean. Chrissie glowered at it and with a brief sniff of it and turned her nose up at it.

"It not smell good," complained Chrissie. "It smell yucky."

"Sorry, sweetheart, but you have to drink this if you want to calm down and sleep better" her eldest brother told her.

"_You _drink it" grumped the five year old.

"I don't need to drink it," Dean pointed out, holding the cup out to her. He nodded at her in encouragement. "C'mon honey, drink this for me. Please."

"Chrissie, baby girl, don't you want to sleep and have good, sweet dreams?" Sam said, as he scooted along the bed.

The scruffy child pouted and took the cup from her big brother's hand and took a tentative sip. The liquid was strange tasting and unfamiliar to her, the face she made said it all.

"I know it doesn't taste good, sweetie but you gotta drink it," said Dean, stroking the back of her head. "It will help you sleep."

After several more gulps, the cup was empty. The cup was then collected by Sam who perched himself on the edge of the bed.

"Good, I see you're getting tired" smirked Dean, as Chrissie rubbed her weary eyes with balled up fists.

He then noticed that she had dropped Goober on the floor, through eye contact and commutication, the middle sibling retrieved the strange teddy bear from the floor and presented it to his little sister.

She hugged her inanimate best friend warmly as Dean picked her up, Sam laying back the covers at the same time. Dean laid her down onto the mattress, then pulled the covers back up.

"Now, you lay down and rest for a while" ordered the seventeen year old, his tone authoritive yet tender.

"Okay" mumbled the exhaustated little girl, yawning lazily.

"Sam, go on down," said Dean. "I'll be down in a few minutes. I'm just gonna stay with her till she falls asleep, which shouldn't take long."

The thirteen year old smiled in agreement and kissed Chrissie's forehead and giving her a quick hug.

"I love you Chrissie" hushed the younger teenager.

"Loves you too, Sammy" said Chrissie, fatigue threatening to overwhelm her.

Chrissie wasn't fighting sleep anymore, it was clear because her eyes were drooping like a Bassett Hound and she was constantly yawning.

"That's right, baby," whispered the eldest. "Don't fight it. Just close your eyes and sleep."

Dozily, Chrissie peered up at her beloved hero and gave him a cute lopsided smile.

"Loves you, Deanie" she said endearingly, hair spread out against the pillow.

"And I love you, sweetheart," crooned the seventeen year old, leaning over and ruffling her hair slightly before cupping the side of her face. "Always remember that. Me, Daddy, and Sammy, all love you. And Angels are watching over you."

He then went forward and planted a kiss on her forehead. The five year old cuddled under the covers, shoving her thumb into her mouth before finally closing her eyes.

Dean rose steadily and quietly from the bed and crept towards the door. His gaze fell upon her one last time before leaving the room, the door still ajar. Just in case the little girl needed her hero.

* * *

**Isn't wee Chris the cutest, most scruffy and innocent kid? Tell me your opinions about characters and past storylines, I'm interested in your opinions. If there is any requests or ideas, then please PM me.**

**Thank you all for the support!**

**Please review!**


	32. Celia's Marvelous Medicine

The mute button had been activated yet again, sending five year old Chrissie into stubborn silence. Her old ripped yellow nightdress had been replaced by a large _Thundercats_ t-shirt, which was baggy in contrast with the child's skinny frame. Her sleep pattern was yet again disturbed by nightmares, which almost led to her brothers to mental breakdowns themselves. The brothers could only wish for a solution to their baby sister's problems and thankfully, Celia Ferguson, an old friend of Bobby's, was now on her way to Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

The sun peered over the horizon, filtering sunlight into the atmosphere as night became morning. Chrissie had been up for some time and was watching the rising sun, with her faithful teddy bear companion Goober tucked under her arm. Since, her bed was next to the window, she didn't have to move off the mattress, offering her the opinion to return under the bed sheets whenever she wanted to.

The child mumbled strange words under her breathe as she absentmindedly scratched the angry red hand print on the crook of her arm. The pain suddenly hit as her tiny finger nails scraped across the inflamed skin which caused the little girl to squeal. A burning sensation was the result as the hand print began to glow brightly. Chrissie cried out in fright as she scurried off the mattress, landing heavily on her bottom which caused her to howl louder. Loud and hurried footsteps followed close by. Chrissie trembled violently, shuffling herself under the bed in order to hide from whoever was about to invade her sanctuary. Frightened, the little girl curled into a shivering ball, listening out for the intruders with her sharp ears as she squeezed her teddy bear close to her chest.

The bedroom door flew open and the hurried footsteps entered the room. Two voices called out her name, yet the child refused to move from her current position under her bed.

"Chrissie?" one of the voices called out. "Chrissie, where are you?"

She held her breathe as a pair of sneakers stopped at her eye level. Chrissie tried to scurry away as a hand lifted the bed sheets which drooped over the side of the bed, her eyes widened as a figure was soon crouched down and peering under the bed. It was Sam.

"What you doing under there?" the thirteen year old questioned. "Come out. It's okay, there's no reason to hide."

Chrissie darted out from under the bed, almost like a bat out of hell and dived onto her bed again. Chrissie's distress escalated as she buried herself under the folds of bed sheets, whimpering like a puppy. The brothers gawped in horror as they witnessed the glowing bruises on their sister's body, and the pair clambered beside the five year old. Chrissie peaked out from her bed sheets, her expression was that of confusion, pain and fear. Whining, she crawled over to the eldest.

"Hey, what's this all about?" the seventeen year old asked, pulling her into an embrace. He tilted her chin slightly. "Don't be afraid, nobody is going to hurt you. Lemme see those bruises again, can we see?"

The child gazed up at her concerned brothers before lifting up the t-shirt, exposing her bare flat chest. Purple stains decorated the sensitive skin, an eerie glow radiated from each individual bruise. The brothers exchanged a worried expression between each other. It was clear that the marks were spreading and obviously causing their sister discomfort. Chrissie pouted as she gazed at the bruises herself, dragging her finger nails across them as the burning causes them to itch.

"No," Dean scolded gently, swatting her hand away as he pulled down her t-shirt. "Leave them alone."

Chrissie's bottom lip stuck out further as it began to wobble, tears welling in her large green eyes. Salty tear drops leaked down the child's adorable freckled face, her shoulders slightly hitching. Sniffles escaped her tiny pink lips. She gazed at her brothers, looking for an explanation on the situation. Skinny arms reached out for contact.

"C'mere," said the eldest, as he pulled the distraught little girl into his arms once again. "Help is on the way. I promise you, by the end of the day, you'll be as right as rain."

The siblings could only wait for the savior that would deliver them from this heartache.

"I sure wish Bobby would hurry up" said Dean as he cradled the softly weeping child in his arms, rocking her as if she was a baby again.

"So do I" commented Sam, nodding in agreement. "How long does it take to get to the airport and pick some one up and get back?"

Minutes later, the five year old was sound asleep.

* * *

Celia knew a lot about hunting, her family on both sides came from a long line of hunters. Her father, named Stuart, was a well built, tough as old boots man from Inverness in the Highlands of Scotland. Hunting was in his blood and his passion for it was ignited more once he met the Irish beauty Jean, who later became his wife and mother to his four children. Celia emigrated to the United States at the age of thirty, it was claimed she wanted to venture new territory. Fifteen years later, she had developed more as a hunter, gaining herself respect amongst fellow hunters as a valuable contact and acquaintance. One of which was Bobby Singer.

The Scottish-American had one theory about the situation she had been given. A little girl who has been traumatized through having contact with an evil spirit, with the addition of the bruises on her body. She left Chicago with everything she required and headed off to South Dakota. The forty-five year old entered her friend's home, an old bag slung over her shoulder. Bobby found no trace of the Winchester kids outside or on the lower level of his house, therefore he motioned upstairs to the strawberry blonde female, his guessing was that they were upstairs. Celia was into the child's room, and there she was confronted by two teenage boys. The eldest was lean yet muscular with dazzling green eyes, whilst the other had dark brown shaggy hair and was slightly lanky, probably about to hit a growth spurt.

Celia shrugged her bag from her left shoulder and placed it on the ground. She then smiled over at the boys, who seemed to have relaxed slightly in her presence. Celia noted the small fluffy haired girl, sleeping on her bed, tucked underneath layers of bed sheets.

"You must be Celia," said the eldest sibling before holding his hand out to her. "I'm Dean."

Celia nodded and shook the youth's hand. The middle sibling approached her, once again showing good manners by offering his hand to her.

"I'm Sam" the younger teenage said.

Celia smiled at them, her brown eyes offering them reassurance, before perching herself on the sleeping child's bed. A white skinny arm was poking from the folds of the bed sheets, allowing Celia to take hold of it. It was the arm with the angry hand print.

"What's your sister's name?" asked Celia, her accent not as strong as it was when she arrived in the States.

"Christina," replied Sam, watching over his sister. "But everybody calls her Chris for short."

Celia continued to study the little girl, briefly touching the glowing hand print with her index finger. The print was hot to the touch and she retreated her hand from the red mark. She frowned, her hand then traveled inside her jacket pockets, before producing a small silver hip flask, ornate with a thistle and the Saint Andrews Cross. The female hunter unscrewed the cap and took hold of the child's arm again, before dropping tiny droplets of liquid onto the bruise.

"Is that what I think it is?" queried Dean. "Is that holy water?"

Nothing happened once the water hit the bruise, which satisfied Celia who turned her head to the older teenager.

"Aye, it was holy water," she replied, storing her hip flask back inside her dark navy denim jacket. "Just to make sure, but I assure you, it's _not_ a possession we're dealing with."

Celia then produced a small vial of burnt orange liquid from her jacket pocket.

"And just what is that?" asked Dean pointing at the vial, his eyes studying the female. "I won't have her harmed in any way."

Chrissie wriggled underneath the bed sheets, a tiny whimper escaped her lips.

"This will put her to sleep and hopefully get rid of the sickness within her," explained Celia, giving the eldest the vial. "Trust me, I've dealt with many cases like this and it will cause her no harm."

The seventeen year old studied the vial in his hand carefully, showing it to Sam before taking it back. The older teen looked at the Scottish-American.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked, gazing down at his precious baby sister.

"Chris has contracted a form of infant ghost sickness," replied Celia, aware that the five year old was stirring slightly. "It's common in children who have first hand encounters with the paranormal. Seems like the spirit has left memory imprints on your sister, which are the bruises."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a weary sigh. This was all his Dad's fault, he got Chrissie sick, he was to blame for this situation.

"There are different forms of ghost sickness," added Celia. "This type only effects small children. So you don't have to worry about it being contagious or anything."

Dean nodded thoughtfully, his gaze not leaving that of his slumbering sister.

"Is it curable? Can you cure it?" he asked. "As if she never came into contact with the ghost?"

"It's curable," returned Celia. She pointed at the vial in his hand. "The liquid in that vial will remove all aspects of the sickness. It also will remove all the memories and images created by the spirit. Most likely, she will have no memory of this event."

The brothers exchanged a relieved expression with each other. Chrissie wriggled in her sleep again, another gentle whimper parted from her lips. Celia hushed her, stroking her hair before motioning for the eldest to come closer.

"She has to drink the liquid," stated Celia. "You have to give the liquid to her."

Dean nodded, and cautiously he edged himself across the bed before hoisting the child into an awkward embrace, with him holding his arms around her torso. Her head lagged back into his chest, her mouth partially open. She wriggled slightly and let out a tiny whimper. The seventeen year old carefully emptied the content of the vial into his sister's mouth. The little girl grimaced as she involuntary swallowed the amber liquid.

"I know it gross sweetheart," crooned the older teenager into the undisturbed child's ear. "You gotta take it though."

Chrissie let out a shiver as the liquid traveled down her gullet, a whimper signaled her upset. Her forehead creased into a frown as she screwed her eyes.

"Keep hold of her," instructed Celia, taking the now empty vial from the teenager. "It will soon take effect in a few seconds."

Just as soon as Celia uttered that statement, the hand print on Chrissie's arm began glowing a bright purple before vanishing completely. A misty fog then began to filter from the child's mouth, which startled the brothers.

"What's going on?" questioned Sam, his tone laced concern. "What's happening?"

"Open the window," commanded Celia, to which Sam obeyed. "This is the sickness leaving her body. Opening the window allows it to escape into the air outside. That way it won't come back."

The fog billowed out Chrissie's throat, making her convulse and shudder. Tiny strangled chokes sounded from the little girl, causing the eldest sibling distress.

"It's gonna be over soon, baby," he hushed, still holding her around the torso in an attempt to keep her upright during this process. He rubbed her back in order to eased her suffering. "Just keep going, you are doing great."

The siblings and the female hunter watched as the sickly miasma drifted out of the window, vaporizing as soon as it came into contact with the oxygen outside. Chrissie became motionless. Celia leaned forward and placed a hand on the child's forehead, she looked up at the near panicking teenager that was cradling her.

"It's over, the sickness is gone," said Celia with a small smile. She lifted Chrissie's t-shirt, exposing her chest. "See. The bruises are gone too."

The brothers both sighed in relief as their gaze fell upon the little one.

Chrissie wriggled again in her brother's arms, her large green eyes fluttered open causing her elder siblings to smile.

"Hey, your finally awake," grinned Dean. "I thought I'd have to give you a big kiss to wake you up Sleeping Beauty."

The five year old giggled weakly at the joke, her eyes still bleary from sleep. She focused on the strange figure sitting beside her on the bed, causing her to cock her head and point at the female hunter.

"Whose you?" she questioned, her expression dozy yet adorable.

Celia smiled at the curious little girl, watching the affectionate nature of the brothers as they mollycoddled her.

"That's Miss Celia," explained Sam, holding his sister's hand. "She is the nice lady who fixed you when you were sick."

Chrissie frowned and wrinkled her nose in confusion. She didn't recall being sick.

"I wasn't sick" said Chrissie, her tone dramatically cute.

The brothers chuckled, overjoyed that they had their baby sister back to normal.

"Yes you were, you were very sick," said Sam. "And Miss Celia made you all better again."

Chrissie turned her attention on the Scottish-American, beaming at her warmly.

"Thanks you, Miss Celia," grinned the five year old, her hair fluffy. "Thanks you for making me all better."

Celia leaned over and ruffled the child's wild hair, making her giggle shyly.

"No problem wee one," smiled Celia. "It's my job."

Chrissie tilted her head, her nose crinkled in confusion. She had never heard such a funny accent before. Pointing at Celia, Chrissie gazed up at her brothers.

"What that lady saying? She talking in silly voice" remarked the bewildered infant.

Celia and the older siblings could only laugh fondly at the green eyed little girl. Hopefully, she would have no memories of the incident involving the spirit. Things were back to normal. For now.

* * *

**Happy New Year folks! I ended up spending New Years with friends and my night ended with my best friend and I walking down the street singing Auld Lang Syne, very loudly and off key. Kinda resembled the moment when Sam and Dean were singing Bon Jovi in the Impala. **

**I know it's been a while since I've updated this story so I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. **

**If you have requests, questions or ideas then just PM me and I will answer. **

**Stay tuned!**

**Please review!**


	33. Chrissie and Goober

**This chapter might be short, but it's sweet compared to the angst and hurt in previous chapters. A little light relief you could say.**

* * *

Four weeks had pasted since the siblings departed from their father after the incident involving the motel ghost which resulted in the youngest contracting a form of infant ghost sickness. With the littlest Winchester now fighting fit once more, the siblings remained in the shelter and care of their surrogate father, Bobby Singer.

The teenagers enrolled themselves in the local school, leaving Chrissie in the company of Bobby during the day. Bobby wasn't used to having small children around and wasn't that keen on them but Chrissie was an exception.

The five year old, although incredibly curious and adventurous, never gave him any trouble as she would make her own entertainment. The aging hunter would smirk every now and then when he heard the small girl talk away to her teddy bear Goober.

"You felled down the stairs again Goober," Chrissie said with a pout one day, cradling the stuffed toy at the bottom of the stairs. She cooed at the bizarre teddy bear as she cradled it in her skinny arms. "Don't cry Goober. I give you band aid and make you all better. You not broke you face."

Another time, in the early morning just an hour after the boys left for school, Bobby caught her carrying the teddy on her shoulders and skipping around the house. A playful giggle escaped her lips as her wavy hair bounced on her shoulders with each skip.

That afternoon, Chrissie was telling Goober a story whilst sitting on the couch, the inanimate bear staring back at her with blank button eyes.

"I wanna be a turtle" she told the bear with a serious yet adorable expression. "But I be a super fast ninja turtle. I eats pizza, ice-ceem and cheesieburgers."

Chrissie sat back and blew a raspberry. She giggled at the sound and repeated the action several times before returning her attention back to her patchwork teddy bear. Beaming, Chrissie giggled again.

"Deanie's an old man," she whispered into the toy's ear, as if her statement was a secret. "He not know that. Shhhh, Goober. You not tell him."

From sweet innocent activities such as reading and telling stories, to rocking it to sleep, there was no doubt. This teddy bear was the child's best friend.

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	34. Chrissie Watches Bambi

**Thanks to brittpage21 for her help with some of the dialogue :) Also a huge thanks to those who have reviewed and favourited this story.**

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"Don't start without me" stated the eldest of the Winchester siblings, his voice drifting from the kitchen.

The younger siblings patiently waited on the seventeen year old, the gentle opening song of the movie chorused in the background. Chrissie's gaze traveled to the kitchen.

"We won't start without you Deanie" she called.

The smell of food then entered the nostrils of the siblings as Dean returned with their food. The long slimy strings of pasta and messy blob of tomato sauce caused Chrissie's eyes to widen.

"Worms!" she squeaked, staring in astonishment at the plate that was given to her.

Her brothers chuckled, gazing down at her fondly. The child had a strange and very active imagination.

"Not worms, squirt," corrected Dean. "Spaghetti."

Chrissie shook her head, shoving a huge mouthful of pasta into her small mouth.

"Nuh uh," she replied, the thick tomato sauce staining her lips and cheeks. "Worms."

The brothers rolled their eyes at the five year old, who was sitting between them on the old couch. Sam was wary of the movie they were settling down to watch. It was _Bambi_, the classic Disney movie that had the ability to shatter hearts with one scene alone.

At the video rental store, it was Chrissie who selected it and when Sam voiced his opinion about it, he was ignored by his elder brother. The thirteen year old had always expressed that Dean was a pushover whenever Chrissie pulled a puppy dog expression. Chrissie was a clever child and knew how to manipulate her brothers with a single expression or wail, that way she could get whatever she wanted.

"Awwww," cooed the little girl, cheeks puffed out like a tubby and fluffy hamster. "Look at the bunny rabbit."

She pointed with her silver fork at the TV screen as Thumper appeared, her head tilted to the side in an endearing manner. The brothers smiled at her, the simplest thing made Chrissie happy. The previous day for example, she was overjoyed at receiving a yellow yoyo from Bobby's friend, Rufus. Regardless to not knowing him very well it didn't stop her from giving him a leg crushing hug. In record time, the siblings finished their supper within four minutes.

The five year old grinned happily as she watched Bambi learn to walk and talk. The patchwork teddy bear Goober had now joined the siblings and was resting in the child's lap, his button eyes stared blankly into space, a red stitched mouth stretched into a constant wonky smile. Chrissie hugged Goober into her stomach.

"Bambi's funny" commented the five year old, glancing up at her eldest brother.

The small girl looked adorable, dressed in her old denim overalls and tiny red t-shirt. It was her hair that was comical as her bunches hung in a lopsided fashion, but the brothers ignored this as they found it sweet and they didn't have the heart to tell her that she did it all wrong.

"Yep, sure is," remarked Dean with a grin as he kissed the tip of his baby sister's nose. "Just like you."

Chrissie beamed at her eldest brother. Her tiny heart filled with glee as she continued to watch the movie. She cooed and giggled as Bambi and Thumper made several disastrous attempts to skate on a frozen pond. Her bright green eyes were as wide as saucers, her head still tilted in a manner of curiosity and awe.

Sam just knew that Chrissie's mood was due to change very soon. It would just be a repeat of the other times in which she reacted to a movie badly. He recalled the first time she watched _Dumbo_ and how upset she got when the big eared infant elephant was separated from his mother. She was also devastated when the siblings watched _The Fox and the Hound_. Sam had a theory, every movie that involves animals, whether it was a dog or a wild animal, something bad always happened that would reduced people to tears.

The thirteen year old exchanged a knowing glance with his older brother as Bambi and his mother grazed happily together in a meadow, and Sam tensed up as the music became darker.

He tried in vain to shield his sister's eyes, whilst the eldest of the three attempted to cover her ears, yet Chrissie swatted their hands away. Then Bambi began to run, his mother pleading him to run faster as a deer hunter with a loaded shotgun had tracked them down. The fatal gunshot sound off-screen caused Chrissie to flinch and gasp. It was only when the now motherless Bambi called out for his parent that Chrissie's eyes began to water.

Most five year olds would be confused by this moment, wondering where Bambi's mother went. Not Chrissie, she knew what had just happened and it broke her tiny heart into a million pieces.

"Poor baby Bambi!" she wailed, tears streaming down her freckled cheeks. "Not nice Mommy Deer! Noooo!"

Dean could only comfort the heartbroken little girl as she sobbed in his arms. The seventeen year old glanced over at Sam as he rubbed his sister's back. Sam was shaking his head at him.

"Here's a smart idea. See next time, pick a movie that doesn't make her cry," said Sam. "Then again, I told you the very same thing last time."

Sam's mind was set, never let Chrissie watch movies involving cute animals.

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	35. Bedtime Routine

**Thanks to brittpage21 for her help with this chapter.**

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Baths were out of the question nowadays. Since the accident at the lake about two months previous, Chrissie still was very timid and fearful around water. She had since got use to showers as means of getting washed since she couldn't't sit in a full bath tub.

It was late on Monday evening and the eldest of the Winchester siblings was busy with the nigh time routine with the youngest member of the small family.

"So, you wanna take a shower by yourself ?" asked the seventeen year old whilst helping his baby sister undress. "Or you want me to get in with you?"

The little girl shook her head at her big brother, her fluffy brown hair bounced with the movement.

"No," she replied in an adorably serious tone. "I'm a big girl. I can go in all by myself."

The eldest chuckled and held his hands up in defense after removing the child's t-shirt.

"Well, I'm so sorry your Majesty" he commented, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Chrissie was soon exposed, her abdomen looking huge in comparison to her pale skinny limbs. The five year old gazed up at the mirror above the bathroom sink whilst her brother adjusted the shower faucet to the right temperature. She wanted to see herself in the mirror but found it impossible since she was too small.

Dean craned his head around and smirked at the sight of Chrissie trying to peer up at the mirror on tip-toes, her tiny fists clasped at her bare chest. He sneaked up behind the child and lifted her into the air, allowing her to gaze at herself in the mirror.

"Oh," remarked the eldest, holding the little girl in his muscular arms. "What a beautiful girl I see."

Chrissie giggled before tucking her legs up to her chest and letting out a small squeak. The seventeen year old planted a kiss on the top of her head, a grin on his face.

"You're the most adorable baby girl anyone could ever imagine," commented the youth, smoothing her hair with one hand whilst the other held her in position in his embrace. "You could give a young Shirley Temple a run for her money."

Chrissie squealed again as she noticed her exposed form in the mirror, yet she had a beam on her freckled face.

"Oh no!" she exclaimed in theatrical horror. "I'm butt naked and I can see my belly button!"

"Yeah," replied Dean, bouncing her in his arms before poking her tummy with an index finger. "It's a very cute belly button though."

The eldest suddenly began blowing raspberries on her bare stomach, making the five year old shriek with laughter.

"No! Stop it!" she pleaded as she giggled hysterically, wriggling like a worm in order to break free. "Deanie, that tickles!"

"Who's the best big brother in the whole universe?" asked the teenager between each raspberry.

The giggles belonging to the little girl bounced off the tiles of the bathroom, and it was likely that Bobby could hear them from his study downstairs.

"You are, Deanie," answered the child. "You are the best big brother in the whole universe."

"That's right," returned the seventeen year old with a smile, finally stopping the raspberries. "Now, are you ready for that rain shower?"

He pecked her on the top of her brown waves to which the five year old gazed at him with adoration. Chrissie's smile soon vanished as they approached the bath tub, the shower faucet raining down water from above. She smothered her face into her big brother's collar bone, her arms winding tightly around his neck like a koala bear.

"It's okay, baby, it's not a bath," said Dean calmly. "It's just a shower and you know the shower here at Uncle Bobby's is in a tub. No need to panic. It's okay."

Chrissie timidly glanced at the shower head that loomed above the old bathtub, beads of water hitting the bottom with noisy splats and spits.

"I'll fall in," she whispered as she buried her face into her brother's neck, still clinging onto him. "I'm scared of water."

Dean nudged the child in his tight embrace. This was normal routine and it would take some time to break her out of this, yet it might not get rid of the phobia.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, sweetheart," he said. "I'll be right here with you. You won't get hurt, I'm sure of it. I'll make the booboo all better, if you do fall or slip."

As usual, Dean ended up having to climb into the shower with her, or else the child would stubbornly refuse to go in because of her fear. Several minutes later, the freshly washed siblings ventured into Chrissie's room, both wrapped in individual towels.

Chrissie then squirmed her way into her Pjs before clambering into her bed. The child yawned as she wriggled under her bed sheets, sitting up against her pillow with her thumb in her mouth. Her big brother sat on the bed beside her.

"I see a certain little girl is getting sleepy," said Dean, noticing her droopy basset hound eyes. He then detected sadness coming from his younger sibling. The teenager stroked her damp hair, his eyes filled with concern and curiosity. "What's wrong, baby?"

Chrissie's bottom lip was stuck out in a small pout, making her look cute and innocent.

"I miss my Daddy," she mumbled sadly. "I want my Daddy."

That was the last person Dean wanted to see. Their father was responsible for Chrissie contracting a form of infant ghost sickness from the angry spirit of a former child molester. Chrissie had no memory of this event and was confused by her father's absence.

"I know, baby," replied the teenager, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "I know."

Goober the patchwork teddy bear was squashed into the five year old's stomach, his big black button eyes staring into space.

"Where did he go?" Chrissie asked her brother, her expression doleful and innocent. "Was I bad again?"

Dean then glanced down at his little sister, his own eyes glazed with sorrow. He wanted to tell her the truth about their father's absence but couldn't find it in his heart to tell her, she was too young to understand the situation.

"No, no, sweet baby. This was not your fault," said the seventeen year old, his tone gentle yet firm, cupping her chin with one hand. "You did nothing wrong, you hear me. This was Daddy's fault. He did something wrong and we had to get away from him for a little while."

Chrissie still failed to understand. In her mind, everybody was as innocent as herself.

"So, Daddy's all alone?" questioned Chrissie with a wobbling pout. "Poor Daddy."

"Shhh, please don't cry," pleaded Dean as he rubbed the five year old's damp hair. "Daddy's tough. I'm sure he's fine, wherever he is."

Chrissie's eyes remained dry and free of tears yet still expressed sorrow and confusion. She blinked as she cuddled her teddy bear with one arm whilst she sucked her thumb. The eldest tucked her in, making sure she was protected from the cold night air. He also propped her pillow in order to make it more comfortable for her.

"There we go, all safe and warm," he said with a small smile. A soft kiss was then planted on Chrissie's exposed forehead. "Time to get some sleep."

Chrissie gazed up at her adored hero, her bright green eyes wide with affection. She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek in a mark of fondness and respect. The child then continued to suck her thumb in a baby like manner.

"Night, night," she mumbled sleepily from behind her thumb. "You, Sammy and Unca Bobby have a good sleep too. I loves you all very much."

Another kiss was planted on her forehead, making her smile slightly as she lay nestled underneath warm bed sheets.

"G'night, sweetheart," whispered the eldest whilst he stroked her hair, as Chrissie eyes began to close. "We love you too, so don't you forget that. Ever. Sweet dreams."

The seventeen year old simply watched the little girl give into sleep, and soon all his angst and frustrations dissolved. He even forgot that he only had a towel around his waist, complete with soaking wet boxer shorts. The teenager didn't care about those facts. He had to protect his baby sister from everything that threatened her safety, this included the shower. His gaze remained fixed on the sleeping child before him. Whenever Chrissie found serenity, so did he.

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	36. A Little Princess Part 1

**This is part 1 on a sub-story to an upcoming plotline. In which I am collaborating with the great fan fic author, kissacazdor!**

**This is hopefully the start of a good partnership within fan fiction, her writing and stories are awesome. If you haven't checked her stuff out, I'd give them a read as they are brilliant.**

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"I don't like dresses, why am I wearing a dress?" moaned Chrissie, her wavy brown hair extra wild and fluffy. "Why are we going out today anyways?"

The five year old found herself dressed in clothing that made her presentable and feminine, a checked dress with matching white ankle socks and black t-bar mary-janes. This was unusual to her as she like dressing in her old scruffy clothes, making her look like a street urchin as Sam would tell her often in a humorous and kind manner. Nevertheless, the child was being given a treat, a trip to the local movie theater to see the movie _"Matilda_._"_

Dean wanted his little sister to be dressed up, knowing she'd enjoy the gift he and Sam had bought her. It's a little white purse with a matching headband. He really wanted to surprise her but his little sister was getting angry at the situation of wearing a dress and nice shoes.

"Fine," sighed the teenager as he finished buckling up her polished shoes. "I was going to give you this at the movies."

He handed her a shiny pink bag with red tissue paper. Chrissie gave him an adorably sweet smile and hugged his legs tightly. The new purse and headband looked adorable on the little princess and Dean couldn't wait to show her off at the theater, knowing its mostly filled with females.

"Thank you very much" grinned Chrissie.

Dean assisted his little sister into the car and drove to the theater, to stand in the long line with all the mothers and babysitters. Even Dean Winchester can sit through "_Matilda_" if he had someone to play with. Chrissie stood there in line as others repeatedly expressed their liking of the way she was dressed. A young woman with a small boy stood behind them.

"Stop watching me" snapped Chrissie with a scowl, to the small boy behind her. "It's not nice to stare. My Sammy says so."

Chrissie was never one to hold her tongue when it came to voicing her temper.

"Chrissie!" Dean exclaimed, "You're dressed like a young lady, so you need to act like one, okay?"

The five year old sulked at the fact she was being scolded by her brother, her arms folded stubbornly across her chest.

"Sorry, Ma'am, she didn't mean to be rude," Dean turning his attention to the woman. "I'm Dean and this is Chrissie."

His eyes gazed at the young woman, who appeared to be in her mid twenties. The woman had long wavy brown hair that tumbled onto her shoulders, her perfect legs exposed due to the very small denim shorts she was wearing. Sure he was only seventeen but there was no harm in trying.

"It's okay, I'm used to moody kids," the attractive brunette smiled at the teenager. Brodie is like that every morning. I'm Tina."

The little boy at her side also had wavy brown hair, his chocolate eyes hidden behind navy framed glasses. He stared at Chrissie in a smitten manner.

"Well, maybe we should let the moody ones get to know each other while we do the same." Dean suggested with a smile that would make any woman melt.

Tina like this proposal, her lipstick stained lips stretched into a seductive smirk. Chrissie didn't like sharing Dean with anybody but Sam, therefore placing an obstacle in her brother's way.

"I don't wanna sit by Badie," Chrissie huffed with a pout "I wanna sit with you."

"His name is Brodie, not Badie." Dean responded. "If you say so."

The little girl then turned her scowl to the young woman who was trying to steal her brother away from her.

"I'll share my big brother with you missus," said Chrissie. "But if you mean to him, you'll be in trouble with me."

Tina immediately smiled at the seemingly adorable statement, until she realized the little girl was serious by the look in her eye.

"How about, I buy you some popcorn and candy?" Tina proposed, hoping to win the small girl over with bribery.

"I don't like popcorn!" Chrissie barked.

Sweet as Chrissie was, she did have a fair amount of spice in her personality.

"That's not true, Chris, you love popcorn" replied her brother, praying that she wouldn't throw a massive temper tantrum.

As small and skinny as she was, Chrissie appeared to have inherited a bottomless gut from the eldest sibling.

"No, Dean," answered the moody child. "Not anymore."

The seventeen year old rolled his eyes at her. He had never met such a stubborn kid in all of his life, apart from himself.

"Fine," Dean chuckled. "Then more for us."

They bought all the goodies needed for the duration of the movie and headed down toward the front of the auditorium. Dean and Chrissie loved sitting in the very first row whereas, Sam usually complained and moved. All four had to entire row as no one sat with them. Dean and Tina moved to one end, leaving the two younger ones sitting together.

Still pouting, Chrissie huddled down and folded her arms, the opening credits to the movie blazing on the large screen in front of them. She turned her head and blinked at the besotted Brodie.

"Wanna some of my popcorn?" he asked, holding out a medium sized bucket. "It's really, really, really, really good."

"If it's _really _that good, then sure, but better keeps hands to self!" she replied, before grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bucket. "Why are ya staring at me again?"

Brodie blushed and looked away from the freckled faced girl. He nervously glanced over at his preoccupied mother.

"I've never seen a beautiful girl before," the bespectacled little boy replied shyly. "You're a fairy princess."

Brodie shuffled off his seat in order to crouch down on one knee in front of the girl of his dreams.

"Can I be your prince?" he asked.

Dean and Tina watched them from their seats. Five years old and it looked like Chrissie had got her first boyfriend.

"Is he proposing to my baby sister?" questioned Dean with a raised eyebrow.

Tina grinned at the sight of her lovesick son.

"No, he's on a Prince kick lately. His dream was to meet a real life Princess," she explained. "So, as soon as we got out of the car, he kept screaming, _'There's my princess. Oh, there's my princess'!_"

Dean was ready in case Chrissie would either hit or kiss the little boy who pined after her. Chrissie simply blinked in surprise and confusion at Brodie's statement, craning her head at her brother, a puzzled look on her face. Dean took a deep breath, praying she would remain calm.

"If you be my Prince, you hafta do everything I say, okay?" said Chrissie, to which Brodie nodded. "Good. My name is Princess Christina."

The five year olds sat together peacefully. After a several long minutes of silence Chrissie then turned to Brodie with a sweet smile.

"I need more of that popcorn" she said primly, pointing at the bucket that Brodie was holding.

"Yes, your Majesty" replied Brodie, giving her the entire bucket with a big smile.

She loved the attention, despite it being unusual. The children watched the movie, giggling and gasping at the right moments. Chrissie got butter on her chin, so her dutiful prince wiped it off with his napkin.

"Hey," she snapped. "Don't touch me!"

She then deliver a quick nip at Brodie's hand in order to repel him. Tina was annoyed when Dean took his attention away from her, due to the fact that the flirting and fondling was getting good.

"Hey, what's going on over here?" demanded the seventeen year old on hearing his little sister squawk.

Chrissie pointed an accusing finger at Brodie, her bottom lip stuck out into a pout.

"He touched me!" she said, her voice almost going squeaky.

Dean paused to look at the little boy playing royalty with his sister, yet Brodie wanted to voice his side on what happened.

"No, I wiped you," he explained to Chrissie. The boy then gazed at his beloved princess's brother "Sir, I'm in love. It's my job to care for her. Wiping and biting happens all the time to a Prince. Princesses are extra special you see."

Chrissie then cleared her throat and put her hands up in a dramatic manner, as if she was going to stop traffic.

"I wanna watch the movie now, so be quiet everybody" she said, sitting up straight in a lady like manner whilst smoothing her checked dress down.

Chrissie and Brodie were enjoying themselves very much watching the movie but towards the end, she noticed her brother and Tina wildly making out and fondling each other. Yet due to the fact there was children around, they tried to do this in secret.

"He does that a lot" commented Chrissie to Brodie. "It's weird."

The children both frowned at their elders.

"My Mommy does that with the man helping her do bending over exercises and running," added Brodie. "She was really fat."

Chrissie looked between the kissing pair and Brodie, her nose wrinkled in confusion.

"Fat?" Chrissie asked.

Brodie nodded at her, munching on a handful of popcorn.

"Yep, but most of the fat is on my little sister now," he said. "When my Mommy had my baby sister she lost most of her fatty, so it musta went inside the baby. My Mommy wants another baby. She said, if my Daddy won't give her one then she will go out and get one herself."

Chrissie's eyes were wide like saucers as she watched her brother act oddly with the lady, wearing what in her mind looked like panties. She then glanced back at Brodie.

"Is your Mommy married?" she asked him.

Brodie shook his head at Chrissie in a negative response whilst fixing his glasses.

"Not anymore, but my Daddy sometimes stays the night," he said. "She is looking for another husband. I think."

After the credits rolled, everyone began talking and stood up. Brodie stood up first. offering his hand to the beautiful princess, who accepted with a cute smile. The tiny five year old couple walked out of the busy auditorium by themselves. Dean and Tina hurriedly caught up to the fast little couple.

"What's the big rush?" he asked the children.

Chrissie's skinny legs were slightly crossed and she hopped about whilst standing still.

"I gotta pee" she said.

Tina glanced down at the small girl, a smile on her face.

"I'll join you" Tina suggested as she ushered her towards the female restroom, the two males waited on them outside.

After doing her business, Chris was unhappy to see the woman waiting for her, and also for trying to assist her with hand washing.

"I'm big girl now" stated Chrissie with a frown, giving Tina a clear hint that she was not wanted or needed in this situation.

Tina waited for Chrissie at the door. Chrissie, after she finished washing her hands, gazed up at her curiously.

"How old are you?" she questioned Tina.

Tina raised a quizzical eyebrow at the child. Kids really had no sense of inappropriate and personal questions, and were always brutally honest with their thoughts and opinions about people.

"I'm gonna be twenty-five next month," answered the long legged young woman. "Why?"

Chrissie let out a surprised gasp, bringing a hand to her mouth.

"That's older than my brother," she said. "He's seventeen."

Tina's face dropped. Seventeen? She had been flirting and making out with a seventeen year old kid. Chrissie walked out of the restroom, to which Tina quickly followed. The two separate families left the movie theatre and walked across the parking lot. Tina took this opportunity to confront the teenager that she was wanting to have a fling with.

"Your sister said you were seventeen!" the brown haired beauty hissed angrily. "Is this true?"

"What? No, of course not," Dean explained, "I'm twenty-two, just like I said."

The teenager wished that Chrissie hadn't said anything, even though they encouraged her not to tell lies. Yet, every human tells a white lie every once in a while. Although Tina desperately wanted to believe him, the look his sister had proved her instincts to be correct.

"I can't believe I almost slept with a seventeen year old!" shrieked the young mother, who then tugged harshly on her son's arm. "C'mon, Brodie, were leaving now."

The besotted Brodie was not happy with his mother's words, he gazed at Chrissie with wide sad eyes.

"But, Mommy, I wanna be with my princess" he cried out.

Tina continued to tug her boy's arm in an attempt to make him move away.

"Sorry, but I wanted to be fulfilled but none of that's gonna happen," she said. "C'mon!"

The prince gently kissed the Princess' hand goodbye. Dean tried to stop them.

"Jeez babe, we can still have fun" he said with a cocky smirk.

Tina stopped in the middle of the parking lot to give him a quick slap across the face. Chrissie rolled her hands into fists, charging at the girl who just assaulted her hero. Dean managed to catch her in time before she launched her full attack.

"That was very mean!" growled Chrissie, glaring up at Tina. "I'm gonna beat you up!"

"No, no one is beating anyone up." Dean barked. Watching the mother and her heartbroken son leave in their vehicle, he then added. "C'mon, sis, I'll take you to lunch. Your choice."

Chrissie wrinkled her nose and gazed up at her brother, her wavy hair extra fluffy.

"Did I say something wrong?" she asked.

The elder sibling shook his head at the little girl, a small smile on his face.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong. I did," he replied. "I guess I deserved to be slapped."

Chrissie pouted, gazing at her feet before wandering towards the car by herself, only for her brother to follow her.

"Hey, I'm sorry that I made a mess of the day but I'll be yours the rest of the day," the eldest said. "What do you wanna do?"

The siblings paused outside the old car they were using. Chrissie shrugged and removed the headband from her hair. The pout still on her face alongside watering eyes.

"Wait," Dean pressed. "I don't wanna see any tears coz this is a happy day. You are a princess and I'll be your prince for the rest of the day."

Dean assisted her with the headband, treating it like a crown. Chrissie somehow managed a small smile.

The siblings then entered the car and drove back to collect Sam at Bobby's. The plan was to treat the youngest to a dinner show, the theme being medieval knights and princesses, complete with sword fighting and jousting. This was within a building that looked like a European castle from centuries ago. On picking up the middle sibling, Dean gave his brother a signal about not asking about previous events of earlier.

"Chrissie, you look so grown up," Sam cheerfully stated, looking at his sister in the back seat. "Did you like your new gifts?"

Chrissie just nodded, not saying a word. Sam sighed.

"You know Dean, its too bad Chrissie is not talking because those horses will be very sad" said the thirteen year old. "Will you help me root for the horses since Chrissie won't help?"

"Why would they be sad?" questioned Chrissie, which made the brother smile.

"They want all the people there, especially little girls, to yell for them to win since its a competition," explained Sam. "The louder you yell, the happier the horses get."

It was Chrissie turn to sigh. She stretched her legs whilst clicking her heels together.

"I don't look like a princess," she said. "I look like a little girl"

The brothers smiled again. Chrissie always said the cutest and funniest things.

"You look like both." Dean said with Sam agreeing with him.

The two knights ventured towards the castle, taking the tiny princess with them.

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	37. A Little Princess Part 2

**Another huge shout out to kissacazador for her input to this chapter and the upcoming ones!**

**Warning: Contains cute Chrissie moments and awesome brother moments.**

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Chrissie had always wanted to be a princess, just like the pretty girls in the Disney movies. Her favorite princess would have to be Belle from Beauty and the Beast, because she liked books. Dean joked that if Sam was a Disney princess, then he too would be Belle.

The five year old gazed out the window at the sky from her car seat, the sunlight making her hair shine.

"The castle doesn't look like the real castles in Europe, but it still looks awesome," stated Sam. "We're gonna have so much fun."

The brothers were soon startled by a sudden squeal. It was Chrissie.

"Goober! Nooooo!" she exclaimed dramatically. "Goober's all alone! Nooooo!"

"Oh jeez, we can't go back." Dean said. "We don't have the time."

Chrissie pout began to wobble as she grieved for her missing teddy bear companion. The middle sibling craned his head to face his baby sister, who was strapped in her car seat in the back.

"I already spoke with Goober and he told me to take Chrissie to the castle, get pictures and bring him home a present," responded Sam, in order to limit the threat of water works. "I think we should get him a t-shirt."

The five year old frowned, her delicate eyebrows caused her brow to crinkle.

"That doesn't sound like Goober," mumbled Chrissie. "He cries when he is alone. That's what I do. I don't like being left alone."

They finally made it to the long destination after half an hour. All three quietly exited the vehicle making there way into the large structure. Dean paid for the tickets while Sam brought Chrissie into the gift shop. He instantly saw the teddy bear section and ushered her over to it.

"Yep, this is what Goober said he wanted." Sam said, pointing to the teddy bear t-shirts. "Which color do you think he'd look best in?"

Chrissie inspected each tiny t-shirt in great detail. Her teddy didn't look like some of the teddy bears on display. Goober had black button eyes that had been stitched on, his lopsided smile was also stitched on with red thread. The head was slightly bigger than the rest of the body, and one arm was shorter than the other. Goober wasn't the typical fluffy bear, his material was made of an old patchwork quilt with lots of soft padding underneath. He was bizarre looking but Chrissie loved him nevertheless regardless of appearance.

"He likes yellow," said Chrissie. "It makes him happy."

Goober had many outfits that she had created. An old green hair ribbon was his tie and also during cold weather the bear was given a small scarf and socks that had belonged to a doll that Chrissie owned.

"Fine, we'll take one of those then," Sam said, while winking at the saleswoman nearby. "How about a cup or a backpack for him as well?"

Chrissie shook her head at her brother.

"Goober has little arms and he looks silly with a backpack, because of his small arms," replied Chrissie in a adorably cute tone. "He's allergic to cups, makes him pukey green sick."

Sam rolled his eyes at his five year old sister, she had such an active and wild imagination. Maybe he should start reading different books to her and lay off Dr Seuss.

"Hey, I have an idea," said Sam, before letting out a chuckle on his next statement. "Maybe we should get him and Dean matching t-shirts."

A wide grin spread across Chrissie's face.

"Yes, of course," said Chrissie with a giggle. "A big yellow t-shirt."

Chrissie's smile and laughter had always been infectious, even when she was a baby. The middle sibling couldn't help but smile too.

"Sounds good then" Sam replied, handing the saleswoman the cash for two t-shirts.

Chrissie clapped her hands and bounced on the balls of her feet. She couldn't wait to see her eldest brother's reaction.

"Dean's gonna love it" she excitingly stated. "Goober will be so happy too, it might make him cry happy tears."

The eldest sibling was then spotted nearby.

"Let's save it for a surprise, okay?" said Sam, to which Chrissie nodded in agreement as Dean walked toward them.

Dean handed the hostess their tickets and followed her down a long hallway. Sam noticed how scared his little sister was and immediately took her hand to show comfort.

"I can't wait to show Dean and Goober their surprise present," he whispered, leaning down slightly. "We'll get a lot of pictures too, and we'll show Goober and Uncle Bobby them."

The siblings continued to walk down the dark hallway, flags and tapestries decorated the walls.

"Why is it dark?" whispered Chrissie, gripping Sam's hand tightly "I'm frightened of the dark."

"Yeah, but, the horses are the main stars of the show, so they keep it real dark so the spotlight can shine on them," explained Sam. "Makes them feel special. Do you understand?"

Chrissie nodded, but really didn't understand. Once entering the Great Hall, Sam guided her to a seat next to Dean. Chrissie was memorized at the huge facility, but it made her feel very small.

"Damn," Dean loudly whispered to his brother, a huge grin spreading across his face. "That costume on the hostess was so low I could see her belly button."

Sam wished his older brother didn't express his inappropriate thoughts and opinions when their little sister was in their company.

"Dean!" Sam hissed irritably. "Shut up!"

Startled, Chrissie whipped her head from brother to brother, curious and confused about what was going on.

"What? What is it?" she questioned with an innocent expression. "What's wrong?"

"Uh, nothing. Dean's being inappropriate as usual" replied Sam. A server with a low cut costume came around to place their orders. Sam leaned across and quietly cautioned his brother. "Dean, don't say a word. I mean it. Keep it in your boxers."

The young waitress looked around seventeen years old and had long straight red hair. In Sam's opinion, her eyes were bigger than _Bambi's _and she appeared to be a _Jessica Rabbit _wannabe.

"My name is Sarah Jane and aren't you just adorable," cooed the busty waitress, leaning over so much at the eldest couldn't help but have a quick gawp at her bust.

"Thanks, I am," smirked Dean with a cocky expression.

Sarah Jane giggle like an annoying budgie, twirling a strand of her long hair with her index finger, whilst she held the notepad and pen with the other.

"I was talking to her, not you," she remarked. The waitress then handed Sam a large bib that could be mistaken for an apron. "This is to cover her up during supper as it tends to get messy and I don't want her beautiful outfit to get dirty."

After leaving three menus, Sarah Jane departed the siblings table in order to tend to others.

"So, Chrissie, what do you wanna eat?" asked Sam, giving his sister the decorative children's menu. "Have a look and tell us want you want."

Holding the menu up to her face, Chrissie pondered. The setting and the theme of the show was old fashioned, but the menu wasn't. Sam slightly scoffed at the menu. He doubted that the knights of medieval Britain feasted on cheeseburgers and onion rings.

"Hmmmm, what will I have for supper?" muttered Chrissie. She sighed dramatically, almost Shakespearean. "Ohhh, I don't know. Ohhhh, no wait, can I get the cheeseburger and fries, please."

The middle sibling nodded and smiled at his five year old baby sister. At least she wasn't one of those bratty children who scream and stomp their feet whenever they don't get their own way. She had her moment but Chrissie was as good as gold, she wouldn't hurt a fly but she would talk to it instead. Sarah Jane returned to take their order, including Dean's ridiculous request to have three meals. She handed Chrissie a doll, a knight that basically looked like a cheap version of a _Ken _doll.

"We have a medieval banquet and thrilling competition between Knights, so you're in the red section," said Sarah Jane. "This is your very own red knight to play with and take home, unless you want a girl one instead?"

Chrissie shook her head as she glanced over every detail of the male doll that had been given to her.

"It's okay, I can take the man knight home," said Chrissie seriously. "He will be my bald Barbie's boyfriend."

The three adults laughed at the innocent remark of the child.

"Since you already are a princess, I thought you'd want the Knight instead," said the waitress. "Don't forget, if the red knight rescues the kidnapped Princess Abigail, then you get to meet her and the red knight and his horse."

Chrissie smiled adorably, holding the knight doll in her small hands. The waitress departed only to come back around fifteen minutes later with their food and drinks.

"I wanna be a pussy cat when I grow up" announced Chrissie, munching on her cheeseburger.

"Well, I ain't cleaning out your litter box," remarked the eldest sibling, amused by his little sister's random statement.

Chrissie giggled sweetly, smoothing her dress with her little hands, her feet sticking out as they didn't reach the ground. Short waves of fluffy brown hair stuck out wildly, making her look ten time more cute. The freckles across her nose and cheeks had become more noticeable due to the summer weather. Dean loved hearing his sister laugh.

The siblings devoured their food and drinks whilst watching the show and within the space of an hour and a half, the show was over. Chrissie could now meet her winning knight and the rescued princess. The Red Knight introduced her to the Princess.

"Its so nice to meet you, Princess Chrissie. Aren't you the prettiest little girl in all the land," smiled the petite blonde actress. "Would you like to pose with me on top of Rancher the horse? We'll have to sit side saddle because that's how ladies wearing dresses sit."

Chrissie gazed at the actress and wrinkled her nose.

"I'm confused, because the girl with the boobs who Dean was watching during your show, opened her legs and almost showed her underpants," the little girl innocently remarked. "She was wearing a dress."

All turned and stared at a horrified Dean. Chrissie was too observant and curious. He squawked her name but the five year old was staying determined with what she saw.

"It's true," insisted Chrissie. "You musta had a bug in your eyeball because you blinked weird with it. The girl with the boobs found it funny because she smiled all the time."

With folded arms, Sam glared at his older brother. Typical. He didn't even want to know what his brother was thinking at the time.

"Chrissie, stop talking!" Dean barked, his cheeks almost flushing with embarrassment.

The Princess interjected by asking the Red Knight to assist her on top of the horse. Sam helped his little sister on top and both girls posed for pictures, with Chrissie grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Just keep it in your pants," said Sam, nudging the eldest sibling with his elbow . "So she can have a good time."

Before Dean could respond, the photographer brought the brothers into the last picture. Carefully the little girl was taken down from the brown horse, Chrissie giggled happily as the actor playing the knight showed her the horse, named Rancher.

"Here, Rancher, I drew this for you," she affectionately said to the large animal, holding out the coloring page she received from the waitress. It was very colorful. "I love you."

Dean grabbed all their belongings as his little sister waved goodbye to all the actors. Taking Sam's hand again, they walked out of the arena back down the long dark hallway to receive their photographs at the hostess stand. Sam made sure he did the talking, not wanting the flirting to start again. Chrissie liked her pictures, taking them as she skipped out into the parking lot with Dean.

"You look mad," stated the child, putting her glee on pause. "Are you mad? Was I bad? Is that why your unhappy face is on?"

Dean gazed down at the five year old. Regardless of her young age, she knew how to determine people's emotions just by looking at them, it was almost like reading their thoughts.

"No, no. I'm not unhappy," Dean said, kneeling in front of her, "You and Sam are the most important people in my life and I want you to know that."

On rising to his full height again, the youth felt a sharp twinge of in his side. He held back a wince as any sound or sign of pain would result in a grilling from his siblings. The pain had been coming and going all day. He assumed it was a strained muscle or something, nothing to get worried about. Then he noticed something in one of the bags his sister was carrying. The child smiled at her brother and produced a large yellow t-shirt with "I Save Princesses For A Living" printed on it in bright red letters.

"Oh, is that for me?" asked the older teenager, praying that it wasn't a present for him.

The little girl giggled, a wide grin on her freckled face as she gave her brother the t-shirt. The older teen noticed Sam sniggering.

"Oh great," said Dean sarcastically as he put the t-shirt on. Thankfully Chrissie wasn't able to understand and translate sarcasm. "Now I look like Big Bird."

Chrissie just giggled and hugged his leg, the grin never fading from her lips. She then wrinkled her nose and gazed up at him.

"Oh no, you're not Big Bird," said Chrissie. "You're Oscar the Grouch."

This time without holding back, Sam roared with laughter.

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	38. Big Brothers Are Rocks

**Thanks to kissacazador for her help constructing this chapter! A shout out to her! Also a cheer for those who have reviewed and favourited this story.**

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"Didn't you enjoy today?" asked Chrissie, her eyes wide like a puppy dog as she gazed up at her eldest brother. "You got that grumpy face on and that means you're not happy."

Dean winced as he guided the child back into their current lodgings at Bobby's house. His left side felt very painful, and he just assumed that it was due to overindulging himself on food. Chrissie was worried in case she had done something to upset or anger her big brother as he seemed out of character.

"I did have fun today and I am happy," Dean softly replied. "But sorry that I made Sam and you uncomfortable."

Chrissie wrinkled her nose as she unbuckled her black t-bar mary-janes, exposing her tiny white socks. She placed the shoes neatly beside the front door.

"What does umcarfartable mean?" asked the five year old, making an effort yet mispronouncing the long word. "That's a really long word and I don't think I've heard it before. I might have, but I maybe forgot."

Chrissie always had her own way of saying things, usually followed by her own bizarre theories and words.

"Well, it means that big brother did something very stupid to baby sis and little bro," answered her bemused eldest, leading her into the kitchen. "It's all forgotten now."

Chrissie rocked on her heels, her hands clasped behind her back as she continued to gaze up at her beloved brother.

"You not sad or mad then?" she asked. "If you were then I would be very sad too."

Empathy was triggered within Chrissie at a very early age and she always had a knack of figuring out people's individual emotions, as if she could read minds. It made her all the more endearing.

"Nah, I ain't mad," said Dean as he kneeled in front of his big-hearted little sister, a small smile on his face. "I had a great big meal, gotta a couple of phone numbers and a new t-shirt; plus, I gotta have my picture taken with _two _princesses and a horse."

The five year old child blinked and wrinkled her nose in her trademark confused expression.

"I only saw one princess," she said. "I didn't see another one."

Dean laughed and carefully picked her up, ignoring the pain in his side as he did so. She was so tiny compared to the seventeen year old.

"You are, silly," he replied, a large grin spreading across his lips. "You're the other princess. Between you and me, you are so much prettier than the one we saw."

Sam walked in at that moment, snapping a surprise photograph of his two siblings with his camera. The bright flash caused the two startled siblings discomfort.

"Dammit, Sammy!" Dean barked, while setting down his bewildered little sister.

Chrissie rubbed her eyes with her fists, trying to adjust her vision due to the flash.

"Yeah, dammit, Sammy!" parroted the child, after several moments of blinking.

The brothers turned their attention to the youngest, surprised and shocked by her choice of exclamation.

"Christina!" they yelled in unison.

Chrissie sighed theatrically and put her hands on her hips. In her innocent mind, the word seemed pretty harmless and it confused her on why her brothers were reacting like this.

"Dean Winchester!" remarked Bobby, coming in behind the trio. "You need to apologize to them right now!"

Bobby shook his head at the siblings and sighed on witnessing the eldest's overreacting.

"Me?" exclaimed the seventeen year old, pointing down at his bemused baby sister. "She's the one who said it."

Sam glared at him, giving his older brother his famous bitch-face expression.

"Fine, I'll do it," the eldest reluctantly said, kneeling back down to level himself with his sister. "Hey, Chrissie, what I said was a very, very bad word. A little girl, especially a princess, would never say that word, even though it was accidental."

Chrissie's eyes widened, her quivering lips curled out into an adorable pout. She cocked her head as she gazed up at her brother.

"We're not mad. I was wrong for you to hear that bad word" explained the eldest softly.

Chrissie's bright green eyes created a kicked puppy dog effect, which reminded Dean of Sam when he was that age. The tiny five year old nodded, and without saying a single word, she wandered towards the living room. She crawled onto the long couch. Chrissie hated getting reprimanded by her family members. She lay on her front in a prone position, looking very upset.

"Ah jeez, Dean, c'mon already," Sam annoyingly stated, watching his little sister's movements. "Find out what's wrong."

Dean felt his side twinge with that same sharp pain again. Why was he the one to solve all the problems? Each time there was mess, he was the one to clean it up and pick up the broken pieces left behind. Nevertheless, he had a duty as the eldest to deal with all of this. He wasn't allowed to complain or show sign of struggle.

"Okay, Samantha, don't get your panties in a twist," replied Dean with a hiss. "Bitch!"

The brothers felt so tempted to size each other up, both annoyed with each other's behavior and attitudes.

"Just go!" Sam growled back with a glower, shoving him towards their sister's direction. "Jerk!"

Dean wandered over and slowly sat next to the silent child on the long couch.

"Hey baby," he said, his tone gentle. "What's wrong?"

At the sound of Dean's voice, Chrissie started to cry. Her sobs were little sniffles, and very capable of tugging at heartstrings.

"Aww, don't cry. Please tell me what's wrong?" Dean softly asked, gently rubbing circles on her back. "You can tell me, okay? I won't be mad or anything. Please."

The little girl tilted her head slightly in order to gaze up at her big brother, tears gliding down her freckled cheeks.

"I didn't mean to say the bad word," sniffled the five year old. "I don't mean to be naughty."

Even though she was a gutsy child, Chrissie was also very sensitive and fragile minded, and not one to take criticism.

"Chrissie, you're not trouble. You learn bad things from me and I need to be more careful on what I say and do when your around," Dean stated as pulled her up into a hug. "C'mere."

As she was rocked back and forth like an infant, Chrissie sniffed as several more tear drops leaked down her cheeks.

"If it's a bad word, then why do you say it?" asked Chrissie, her green eyes puffy with tears. "I don't understand why it's a bad word if you say it?"

Dean gazed down at her. Chrissie was always one for asking endless questions on everything. The phrases "What's that?" and "Why?" were common things to hear when she was a toddler.

"When I get mad, frustrated or something, it just comes out," the seventeen year old replied. "I really don't mean to say it, but it happens and I'm really sorry."

Chrissie sniffed once again, wiping her red rimmed eyes with the back of her hand.

"I didn't mean to cry" she said in a small innocent voice. "I was being a big silly baby."

Dean smoothed down her unruly waves and kissed her on the forehead.

"Nah, you weren't," he replied. "Hell, just last week Sammy cried like a freakin' baby when he got hit in the face by that blue Frisbee."

Poor Sam had it rough during that particular day. The siblings had ventured to the park, which ended up a complete disaster for the middle Winchester. The youth got smacked in the nose with the Frisbee, an object that he later had to rescue from a tree, which resulted in him falling out the tree and landing heavily on his rear end, also causing him to rip his jeans. On top of all of that, his ice cream decided to topple out of the cone and onto his sneakers.

"That was cos he hurted his nose. He had lots of red paint coming out of it," said Chrissie. She wrinkled her nose and gazed up at her big brother curiously. "Do you cry?"

The seventeen year old couldn't find an answer for his baby sister's question. He couldn't let his sister know his true emotions on the situation they had found themselves in. Leaving his father was hard, but it was a necessary move in order to protect his younger siblings. John had allowed Chrissie to be placed as bait in order to catch a dangerous spirit, which resulted in the child becoming ill with Infant Ghost Sickness and that event alone caused a lot of grief and suffering. Two months later and the eldest was beginning to feel the strain. Yet, the stubborn teen wouldn't express any sigh of struggle. He would continue playing parent to his brother and sister, making sure he attended to their every need and request. His sleep pattern wasn't the same and half of the time he looked exhausted. He would even sneak liquor in order for him to put his stressed mind at ease, at least for a while.

The pain in his side was getting worse too. The teenager assumed it was a pulled muscle, due to the rigorous exercises he did each morning before his siblings woke up. He even failed to notice his gaunt face and baggy eyes every time he gazed at his reflection.

His mind was overflowing with worries. From Sam's training to Chrissie starting Kindergarten at the end of the month. Yet, the seventeen year old's biggest worry was the fact that John would turn up eventually. That would cause so much fireworks that people would think Chinese New Year had already begun. Everything was ticking away, like a dangerous and emotional time bomb.

"No," whispered Dean to the little girl in his lap. "Big Brothers are like rocks. I don't cry. I never cry."

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	39. Hello Nurse!

**Thanks again to the brilliant and wonderful kissacazador for her help with this chapter. Give her a virtual fruit basket, guys!**

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Sam was helping his little sister get ready for bed. Dean had suddenly fallen ill during the course of the day, and now all of the big brother duties had been shoved onto Sam. Getting Chrissie to sleep was the final duty, then the thirteen year old could rest.

"I loved my toothbrush," pouted Chrissie, wriggling into her tiny blue night dress. "It had Elmo on it. I love Elmo. Now it's all yucky because dumb old Dean threw up on it."

Sam knew his brother had been holding back an illness, but decided to keep quiet. The thirteen year old gazed down at Chrissie fondly. Dean had obviously wanted to protect them both, and hiding this illness was a way to avoid any angst.

"Yeah, but we'll find a better one. I promise," Sam added. "Anyway, it's time for your bedtime story."

Chrissie snuggled into her warm bed. Outside the room, they could hear Bobby and Dean both curse.

"Dean says I get money when he says bad words. That means Goober and me can go shopping with it. He said very naughty words in the bathroom" explained the five year old to her big brother, who was sitting with a colorful book in his lap.

Chrissie had recently established a _naughty word _jar, which was an old tin that once housed a bottle of whiskey. The brothers and Bobby didn't want the five year old becoming potty mouthed.

"Well in that case, you're gonna be able to get a lot of stuff when we go to buy you a new toothbrush" said Sam.

He then smirked as he watched Chrissie's pensive expression and began to read her bedtime story. Sam finally was able to get his little sister to sleep after half an hour, knowing she was extremely tired.

When Chrissie entered the kitchen the next morning, she immediately noticed Dean was missing.

"Where's Dean?" she asked, gazing around the kitchen whilst holding Goober tightly under her arm.

The middle sibling drained his orange juice from it's glass before glancing down at his baby sister.

"Dean is still sick and that why he's still in bed" announced Sam, his tone gentle.

Chrissie saw a small smile on her big brother's face and felt slightly better. The tiny five year old then clambered on a seat at the kitchen table. Sam placed a bowl of oatmeal in front of her, as well as an empty one for the inanimate Goober, who was seated next to her.

"Bobby went out shopping for medicine for Dean this morning. He got you this," smiled Sam, as he slid a small brown bag towards her. "It was because you were such a good girl with helping him with that old rusty car yesterday."

Putting down her spoon, Chrissie opened it, and took out a plastic package. Although, she couldn't read exactly what it said, she knew it was a nurse's kit, complete with a tiny nurse apron, nurse hat, medical tools. Plus a mini lab coat for Goober.

Chrissie squeaked in excitement and clapped her hands. Her little legs swinging back and forth as she sat on the kitchen chair.

"I'm glad you're gonna help us today, but you gotta understand that Dean can't have any food or drink. Except from what Bobby or I give you, okay?" commented Sam, to which Chrissie nodded her head. "It'll have to be either toast, tea, water, Gatorade. Plus, he might wanna read a magazine."

At that moment, Bobby entered the kitchen. The eldest teenager had the aging Hunter up all night with his vomiting and stomach pains. Chrissie beamed up at him.

"Hey darlin', you might wanna draw your sick brother some get-well pictures too," mentioned Bobby. His attention then drifted to the younger teenager. "Sam, I'll be outside, so finish up with her and get everything settled upstairs, then start on that research I gave you."

Chrissie wriggled her tiny toes, her gaze wandering to the ceiling every now and again. Her hair was extra fluffy this morning, making her look even more cute. She then made a random yet adorable statement.

"Dean's greedy like Cookie Monster" commented Chrissie. "Dean likes pie, so he's the Pie Monster."

She then whispered what she just had just said, to Goober and letting out a cute giggle as she did so.

"I couldn't agree more," Sam chuckled. "I betcha he'd wanna watch Elmo with you later too."

Chrissie planted a kiss on Goober's button nose.

"I love Elmo, but I'm in love with someone else" said the little girl innocently.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Sam's mouth. The five year old couldn't get any more endearing.

"Who?" Sam curiously asked, with a brow raised. "Who is your one true love?"

The child's cheeks began to turn a slight shade of red. She then hugged Goober tightly against her chest.

"Prince Eric" Chrissie replied with a shy smile, causing her cheeks to blush even more. "From _The Little Mermaid_, but he won't wanna marry me. He's with Ariel. She is a girl fish. A girl fish with boobies."

Sam immediately walked towards the sink. He desperately wanted to burst out laughing just like Dean would've, but decided against it.

After all, it wasn't that long ago when he was in love with Smurfette. Dean always made fun of him but it didn't matter.

Plus, he hated when Dean talked about all the ones he fantasized over, mostly Jessica Rabbit. Sam was getting sick thinking about his brother's dirty mind, and even more annoyed that his five year old sister was mimicking Dean's humor and way of speaking. The thirteen year old gathered dirty bowls, when he heard a '_clank_' from upstairs.

"I guess Dean's finally up," Sam said, heading out the kitchen. "You and Goober stay here and finish eating breakfast, I'll be right back."

Chrissie's watched her brother curiously, her small nose wrinkled like a rabbit. She was licking sticky oatmeal from her spoon.

"Where are you going?" asked the wide eyed little girl.

Sam paused at the threshold of the kitchen and gazed back at his baby sister fondly.

"I'm just gonna go upstairs, very quickly, to see what kinda mess Dean is making," answered Sam. "I'll be back. Then we can get you and Goober ready to help take care of Dean."

Sam then quickly ran upstairs and rushed into the bedroom he shared with Dean. He found his brother on the floor, huddling over a trash can.

Dean was still green and pale, but once again, Sam wanted to burst out laughing.

The thirteen year old helped his older brother back to bed, and settled the trash can near his bedside.

Upon returning to the kitchen, Sam was pleasantly surprised to see his sister wearing her new nurse's apron and hat. Complete with her medical bag in one hand, lab coat wearing assistant Goober in the other.

The hat was barely hanging on through her messy hair, and splotches of oatmeal decorated her mouth.

"Ta da! Nurse Chrissie and Doctor Goober! Ready to take care of our super sick patient" reported the scruffy five year old, with a mock military style salute.

Sam knelt down at his little sister's level, and whilst thumbing some of the oatmeal from her mouth, he smiled at her.

"How about when clean your face and hands first" commented the young teenage boy.

Chrissie nodded and hugged Goober to her chest, a serious yet sweet expression on her face. Her tiny feet were clad in spotty socks.

"Chrissie, do you know what a nurse does?" Sam questioned, whilst wiping his sister's face and hands with a damp cloth.

The tiny girl nodded, still holding her coat wearing teddy bear under her arm.

"She takes care of people when they feel yucky" replied the little girl.

Sam tweaked his sister's nose gently, making her giggle. He loved the sound of her laughter, as it brought a glimmer of light into his dark and disturbing world.

"Yeah, that's right," he answered. "She also helps by patting the patient down with a damp cloth; and feeding them; and rubbing their back. Does that make sense?"

When Chrissie nodded eagerly, it filled Sam with a sense of pride and admiration towards his baby sister. The five year old was so protective and extremely loyal towards her beloved big brothers.

"Good girl. Now that you're all clean, lets go see the patient" responded Sam.

Chrissie followed Sam obediently up the stairs. She then entered her the bedroom that her brothers shared. Dean was hunched over, puking into the trash can. Nervous, Chrissie hid herself behind Sam's legs.

A pout was growing on her face, as her green eyes were getting wider and wider with concern and sorrow.

"Don't be scared" said Sam.

The pout remained on her face, as she wandered over to her eldest brother. Dean noticed the little girl, who was wearing a mournful expression.

"I'm fine, baby," said Dean quietly, resting up on a pillow. "I just need to rest a little."

Chrissie then clambered up onto her brother's bed. She rested her tiny hand on his sweating forehead, whilst inspecting her invisible watch as she did so. Dean caught his younger brother's amused expression.

The little girl took out the colorful toy stethoscope from her bag and lifted her brother's t-shirt to listen to his heart beat.

"I guess you're in good hands with Nurse Chrissie, so I'll be downstairs doing research" said Sam, standing in the doorway.

When Sam vanished downstairs again, Chrissie placed an ear on her Dean's stomach.

"Oh my!" she squeaked in shock. "Your tummy is angry and it's talking!"

The child gazed up at him with worried eyes, her bottom lip trembling slightly.

"Don't die," she said in a quiet little voice. "I'd be very sad if you died."

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, as sweat collected on his forehead.

"Oh, I'm not dying, baby. I'll survive, and I'm really sorry if I'm scaring you. I'm gonna be alright in a few days," Dean commented softly, stroking the child's face. "I'm getting tired, and I'm going to sleep. Is that okay?"

The five year old girl nodded and pulled the bed sheets over her eldest brother, to keep him from catching a chill.

She sat on the bottom of his bed humming _Hey Jude_, even though she didn't know the exact words. Dean was soon asleep in a matter of seconds, making her happy.

Chrissie then set up her new crayons and coloring book, and she began to make her sick big brother pictures. She kept an eye on him while he slept. Before Chrissie knew it, Sam was softly tapping her on the shoulder, stating it was time for lunch.

The tiny girl picked up her bizarre teddy bear and placed him at the bottom of the bed, making sure her companion was facing Dean.

"You stay here and take care of him, Doctor Goober," instructed Chrissie, wagging her index finger at the inanimate toy. "If you don't, then your fired and you won't be my best friend anymore."

Bobby was at the kitchen table when Chrissie arrived. The five year old carried a feeling of sorrow with her as she shuffled into the kitchen. She climbed onto one of the kitchen chairs and held her little face in her hands, wearing a killer pout.

"What's the matter little darlin', aren't ya hungry?" asked Bobby, handing her a plate of grilled cheese and potato chips.

Chrissie shrugged her shoulders, as she pushed the plate of food away from her.

"I think you should eat, because you did a very good job with your patient," Sam mentioned, as he sat down next to her. He slid the plate back towards her. "Dean's asleep and that's a good thing."

Chrissie's bottom lip wobbled, and she pushed the plate away again. She removed her little hat, before putting her head in her arms.

Sam slightly smiled as Bobby let out a huge sigh. The kitchen became silent, until they heard Dean fall out of bed.

"Balls! That idjit probably tried to get out of bed" barked Bobby, looking up to the ceiling.

"I got it," Sam, standing up. He then glanced down at his baby sister, and pushed the plate toward her yet again. "While I'm gone, young lady, you need to eat this."

In a matter of minutes, Sam was heard yelling at Dean, explaining he needed bed rest.

"Goober was looking after him," muttered Chrissie, lifting her head, in order to make eye contact with Bobby. "I left him upstairs."

For a such a young child, Bobby could see wisdom and a large amount of sadness in her eyes. It never mattered if she was happy, the sorrow would still be there.

"Well, that was very smart of ya," Bobby pointed out. "So, why the gloomy face and no appetite?"

"When people are super sick that means their dying," said Chrissie, her voice a hushed whisper. "Dean's dying."

Bobby let out another huge sigh, thinking how John messed up again with his children. John should be the one handling the heartaches and sickness.

"Dean's not dying; he thinks he is, but he'll be better in no time," he told the little girl. "If I were you, I'd be enjoying the peace and quiet."

A tear drop trickled down the child's pale freckled cheek.

"I don't like it when he's sick" sniffed Chrissie.

Bobby sighed yet again as he rolled his eyes.

"Hell, no one does!" the older hunter remarked. "Your brother is the worst patient; he doesn't stay in bed and complains about every damn thing."

At that moment, Sam returned the kitchen, carrying a fully loaded laundry basket.

"Apparently our patient thinks he's not sick and tried to get dressed. He somehow made a mess of his clothes and sheets, but still denies he's sick," explained Sam, tossing the items into the washer. He noticed his sister's untouched plate of food. "Chrissie? You still haven't eaten."

Chrissie buried her head into her arms. The middle Winchester sibling pulled a chair over to comfort his little sister.

"What's wrong?" he asked, gently lifting her face up, "Are you sick too?"

With a cute pout, Chrissie shook her head.

"No," sniffled the little girl. "When people are sick it makes me very sad."

Sam stroked her hair, as if she was a tiny kitten. As feisty and boisterous as she was, Chrissie had a heart of gold.

"Yeah, me too," admitted Sam. "Actually, you might get sick if you don't get enough nutrients in your system, so how about you take a bite. I made it just the way you like. Not too squishy or too black."

Chrissie made no statement, and sat there looking vulnerable. She simply shook her head, lips tightly closed.

"Please, for me," pleaded Sam.

The five year old's eyes were now bigger, almost like a Japanese anime character.

"I like the way Dean makes it better" said Chrissie, softly.

Sam sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was one thing to deal with a sick older brother who was a stubborn as a mule, but to deal with an equally stubborn child. Sam could at least sympathized with Dean over the frustration and hardship of raising a little girl.

"Yeah, I do too, however, I think a did a good job copying it," replied Sam. "When he gets better then he'll be able to make it for you."

Chrissie slowly began to eat, still looking very vulnerable and innocent. The child seemed to be born with the ability to tug on heart strings with any slight expression that conveyed sadness.

She didn't speak a word as she ate, her eyes glazed with worry and sorrow as they drifted up towards the ceiling every now and again. After lunch, the two siblings ventured upstairs.

"You sure Dean's not dying?" Chrissie asked.

Sam knew his sister wasn't going to let go of this belief easily. Children often created silly ideas in their heads, and it usually ended up making them very worried or scared.

"I'm positive," Sam assured, gently guiding her up the stairs. "Like I said, he'll be fine in a couple of days."

She thought about the statement, taking one stair at a time, They walked into the room, where Dean was half in bed.

"Dude, whatcha doin' now?!" squawked Sam, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Dean glared at his younger brother. The last thing he wanted was his thirteen year old brother going into Mother Hen mode.

"Sammy, I need to get started on that research that Bobby gave us yesterday" he said, his whole body shivering with fever.

Dean reluctantly lay back down, despite his head and stomach spinning like crazy. The mattress was soft against his tired, aching bones and muscles. His focus turned to the little girl hiding behind Sam.

"Sorry you gotta see me like this, sweetheart" Dean admitted, knowing his baby sister must be terrified.

Silence soon followed for a few minutes before Sam cleared his throat, in order to break the stillness.

"Hey, why don't you show Dean, the pictures you made for him," said Sam, leveling himself with Chrissie.

Paper and crayons cluttered the bottom of Dean's bed. The colorful drawings were mostly of odd shaped people and strange looking creatures.

"Wow, you made me pictures" said Dean, a soft yet pained smile on his face.

The little girl slowly gathered them all in her hands and gave the patient his pictures. She cuddled into his side, holding Goober once again in her arms.

"These are awesome!" exclaimed Dean, before holding up a few of the drawings. "Sammy, did you see these? Our sister is really talented."

This caused Chrissie to blush slightly, her shy expression was completely endearing.

"Well, I guess I'm going back down to the study. Still got books to read through," declared Sam, clearing his throat once again. "By the way, Nurse Chrissie is in charge."

After those words, Sam left the bedroom. Still very quiet and full of anxiety, Chrissie watched her beloved big brother. She hugged Goober to her chest, as she cuddled into her eldest sibling's side.

"Are you gonna stare at me all day?" smirked Dean, stroking her soft mane of brown hair. "You wanna make more pictures for me? Maybe draw even me Godzilla fighting King Kong?"

When the little girl remained silent, Dean held her tight, knowing full well he was to blame for her unhappiness. Plus, their father would be ashamed of how he frightened her.

"I'm so sorry, baby," apologized the seventeen year old. "Do you wanna take a nap with me now? I'm getting sleepy."

Chrissie sniffled and nodded her head in reply. She gazed up at her brother with watering puppy dog eyes. Her hair was sticking up, as if she had been plugged into an electric socket.

"Alright, lets close our eyes" hushed Dean, wrapping his arms around the small child protectively.

He then began to softly sing _Hey Jude_. A song that was dear to their hearts, as it was their late mother's favorite song. Chrissie relaxed as soon as she heard the familiar lullaby, and her eyes closed after several minutes.

The remainder of the afternoon was pleasantly quiet, until Dean woke Chrissie up by pushing her to the side. He couldn't stop puking in the trash can, which scared his baby sister. The pain in his stomach was increasing and his sweating skin was on fire.

After the vomiting ceased, Chrissie wasn't sure what to do next. Using her initiative, Chrissie took it upon herself to start dabbing her cherished brother's burning forehead with a damp cloth.

"Please don't die," pleaded the little girl, her eyes wide with fear. "I don't want you to die."

Dean wanted to reassure her but couldn't catch his breath, causing more vomit to gush from his throat. The seventeen year old was so incredibly out of it, that he didn't even hear his cell phone ring. The cell phone rested on his bedside table. This latest model of technology resembled a brick more than a phone. Maybe in a decade or so, the design of cell phones would change.

The deeply concerned little girl answered the ringing device, hoping that it was some form of help on the other end.

"Hello?" mumbled Chrissie. "Are you a doctor?"

A few seconds of silence passed until she heard a very familiar voice. A voice she hadn't heard in over two months. Her father.

"Chrissie, is that you?" asked John.

* * *

**So sorry about this late update, college has been taking over my time recently.**

**Hope you all enjoy this latest chapter and again, sorry about the wait.**

**Stay tuned!**

**Please review!**


	40. Return of Papa Bear

**A:N: Hey guys, sorry for the very overdue update. With the Christmas and New Years holidays, plus college, I haven't had time to update any of my stories. For which, I am sorry. **

**Anyways, here is the long awaited next chapter in the wee Chris series! Also, thank you to kissacazador for her help with the wee series!**

* * *

John was very concerned about his little daughter. By registering her frightened tone of voice, John knew something was wrong.

"Uh, huh. It's me Daddy" sniffled Chrissie.

The child hugged her teddy bear with one arm whilst holding onto the phone with the other.

"Baby, what's wrong? Where's Dean?" queried John. "Put him on the phone, and let me speak to him."

Chrissie's pout wobbled uncontrollably, as salty tears filled her big green eyes.

"Daddy, Dean's dying!" cried Chrissie, deeply distraught.

John thought for a moment, thinking his little girl was exaggerating. He felt had a strange feeling, and that buzz inside him only surfaced whenever his children were in trouble.

"What?! Baby, where are you at?" questioned John. "Please, tell me. If you tell me, then I'll come and find you. We can sort this all out."

He wanted more answers about why his daughter was so upset. Something was definitely wrong.

"Uncle Bobby's," answered the five year old. "We're at Uncle Bobby's

With a heavy sigh, John pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going to be one difficult reunion.

"Where's Sammy and Bobby?" demanded John.

The line suddenly cut off, before Chrissie could answer her concerned father. Meanwhile, John left his motel, and headed straight for South Dakota since his kids were in trouble.

"Daddy? Daddy where are you?" whimpered Chrissie, clutching onto the phone with her tiny trembling hands.

Dean had one final upchuck of vomit, before immediately falling back onto the bed, sweating profusely, yet cold as sin.

Chrissie hurried over to her sick big brother, deeply worried about his health. The five year old wiped Dean's forehead, and handed him a glass of ginger-ale.

"Daddy called" she said, gazing at him with her big green eyes.

Her brother didn't register the statement she had just made, and simply nodded his head.

"Oh, that's nice," Dean managed to say. "Can I have a cracker to get rid of this taste?"

The obedient little nurse handed him a package of dry crackers, which he shoved into his mouth whole. After taking a few more sips, Dean laid down on one side and fell asleep.

Chrissie then heard the brick like cell phone ringing again. It startled her at first, but she answered it. It was John.

"Daddy?" asked Chrissie. "Daddy? Is that you? Where are you?"

On the other end of the line, John sighed in relief at the sound of his little girl's voice. Yet, it troubled him to hear the stressful tone of his daughter's voice.

"Hey baby, I'm on my way," replied John. "Just be a brave girl, and hang on."

The line cut out again. Thankfully, John wasn't as far away as his sons thought he was. Half an hour later, Sam entered the room to check on his siblings. He found the little girl curled up against the eldest, her eyes were open and her cheeks were stained with tears.

"What happened?" asked Sam quietly, as he slowly moved closer towards the distraught five year old. "Chrissie? What is it? What's wrong?"

The sniffles and hiccups coming from the crying child sounded both adorable and heartbreaking at the same time.

"Dean said he's dying," sobbed the little girl. "My brother is dying. Oooh no!"

Even though she was exaggerating the situation, Chrissie was still breaking her little heart over her sick brother.

"Oh, sweetie. He just said that since he's ill" said Sam, as he picked her up and carried her over to his bed.

Sam sat on his bed, with his sister in his lap. He gave her several sips of water, in hope to cure her hiccups. Chrissie was about to tell her brother something, when they heard loud voices and arguing coming from downstairs.

"Chrissie, stay here," instructed Sam, lifting his sister out his lap. "Keep the door locked."

Sam ran down the stairs, and instantly smacked into his father and Bobby.

"Dad?! Dad, what the hell are you doing here?" exclaimed Sam, his tone conveying both surprise and horror.

Bobby cocked his rifle, a deadly glare in his eyes.

"Get out, John; you're not welcomed here!" the older hunter growled dangerously.

John gazed at Bobby, a look both threatening and pleading.

"My kids need me! I'm not leaving this house. No! Not until I see my kids," John insisted, his tone laced with parental concern. "I know about Dean, Bobby. I know he's sick."

Sam chewed the inside of his mouth. This was the last thing that he needed on his already full plate. Everything, apart from Dean sudden illness, was running somewhat normal. Now, that their father had returned, it put the spanner in the works.

"It's been two months," added John. "The last time I saw my little girl was in the middle of a road."

Sam rolled his eyes, and folded his arms across his chest.

"Yeah, I remember, but you brought this on yourself," Sam clarified. "We needed to be safe from you, since that horrible incident at that sleazy motel."

John gazed upstairs. He heard sobbing.

"My baby is crying. C'mon let me see her!" John pleaded.

Sam turned to Bobby for back-up, but he reluctantly gave in.

"Fine, you get five minutes and no longer," muttered Sam, shuffling awkwardly on his feet. "She's upset enough as it is."

Sam then led his father upstairs, before making him wait in the hallway until he told his sister.

"Chrissie? Chrissie, it's Sam," said the thirteen year old, gently rapping on the bedroom door. "Daddy's here. Do you wanna see him for a minute?"

On the other side of the door, Chrissie hiccuped and lifted her head from the pillow.

"Daddy?!" sniffled Chrissie. "I want my Daddy."

John didn't even want to wait for a reply, and he pushed his son out of his path, and opened the door. His little girl was sitting on Sam's iron framed bed, sobbing.

"Oh, baby, c'mere," John quietly begged, as Chrissie immediately ran into his waiting arms. "Don't cry. Daddy's here."

Chrissie squashed her face into her father's collar, as she wound her arms around his neck, and her legs half way round his torso.

"I've missed you so much, Daddy," cried the five year old. "Why did you go away?"

John had always hated to see and hear his only daughter cry, as it pierced his already broken heart.

"I had business to take care of," replied John, holding his little girl in his arms. "I'm here now to take care of you and your brothers."

John knew Bobby was pissed.

"Let's get you cleaned up, then we'll have a chat while we wait for Dean to wake up" added John.

He carried her into the bathroom, instantly closing the door.

"Balls! Now he's never gonna leave! Dean is gonna be pissed when he finds out your Daddy's here," growled Bobby. "I blame you and her, with those damn looks you give me to get whatcha want!"

Sam gave him an innocent look, making Bobby storm out of the room.

'_Maybe it was a mistake to let Dad back in our lives' _Sam thought, as his sick brother stirred.

The eldest's eyes fluttered open and with a weary groan, he sat up. This gained Sam's full attention.

"Hey, you feeling better?" asked Sam, pushing the trashcan closer to his brother.

Dean had terrible bags under his eyes, and his skin had a dirty grey tinge to it.

"Yeah, thirsty," croaked Dean, while reaching for water. "Oooh, I still feel like shit."

Dean then noticed something as he gazed about the bedroom. The youngest was missing.

"Where's Chrissie?" he asked.

Sam began to chew the inside of his mouth again, a tell tale sigh that he was nervous.

"Uh, do you want some soup, ginger-ale, antacids? Do you need fresh water? " asked Sam, obviously wanting to change the subject.

The eldest shook his head, clearly wanting to stay on the previous subject.

"Sammy, where's the baby?" repeated Dean.

Sam ran his fingers through his hair, knowing that his words would only cause more stress and grief.

"Don't get upset," began Sam, aware that his brother was going to erupt when he found out that their father had returned. "When you were delirious, you kept repeating that you were dying, so Chrissie got that into her head. Then the phone rang. It was Dad. Chrissie told Dad that you were dying, so he rushed over here to help."

Dean bolted upright, his head spinning as he did so.

"What?!" squawked the seventeen year old. "Aw shit!"

Sam rested his hands on his brother's shoulder, trying to force him to lay down again.

"Dean, calm down. Chrissie's in the bathroom with Dad, she was really upset," reassured Sam. "She really wanted to see him, man The poor kid doesn't know any better."

Dean rushed to the door, but swayed in the hallway. Sam grabbed hold of him to keep him steady, however Dean swatted him off. Before they went into the bathroom, Dean heard the sound of the bath tub filling up with water. His eyes widened in horror.

"Shit! He's gonna put her in the tub!" he exclaimed.

Sam pushed the door open, just in time for John to turn off the taps. He was about to help his daughter into the warm water.

Startled, John whipped his head around to be confronted by his eldest child. A naked Chrissie was trembling violently, her eyes were wide with terror.

"Dean, you look like shit. Get back to bed," John ordered, unaware of his little girl's hydrophobia. "Now! I gotta deal with Chrissie first."

On seeing the frightened expression of his baby sister's face, Dean rushed over.

"Get the hell away from her!" Dean yelled. "Don't you dare put her in that tub!"

The sick teenager tried to move forward, but his knees buckled and he fell to the floor. Chrissie squeaked, before scuttling over to help her seventeen year old brother to his feet.

"Thanks Nurse Chrissie, but I got it," Sam declared, helping Dean to his feet. "C'mon, dude. I gotcha."

Once Dean steadied himself against the bathroom door, Sam went to Chrissie and guided her away from their father. The thirteen year old then helped his sister back into her clothes.

"Son, you're won't better if you don't rest. You'll only make yourself worse. Go. Back. To. Bed. Now!" the ex-marine sternly demanded.

The older teen glared at his father. Like Sam, this was the last thing he wanted to be dealing with.

"No, Dad, I'm not a child, but she is. You're scaring her," challenged Dean. "You're not to be in our lives for two months. I want you to leave now!"

John rolled his fist up, desperately wanting to smack the mockery right out of his oldest son's mouth. However his two younger children were standing between them.

"No Daddy!" squealed Chrissie, bursting into tears again. "Don't hit my Dean again!"

Sam pulled his little sister into a protective hug, wanting to shield her from any possible sights of violence.

"Ain't this just a nightmare!" exclaimed Dean, extremely frustrated about the current situation.

He didn't want this now. It was worse that his brother and sister were in the same room too.

"Watch you're damn mouth, boy!" John sternly insisted. "I'm warning you! Dean, go back to bed, while I bath your sister."

Chrissie's streaming eyes went even wider with fright. She let out a wail of despair and fear.

"Dad, she's afraid of the tub! Of water!" shouted Dean. He pointed at the quivering little girl. "You did this to her!"

Chrissie hated it when her family argued and had angry fights. It confused her.

Sam picked up his baby sister, who was now clothed in her _Barney the Dinosaur _vest and panties.

"Both of you need to get out of here," remarked Sam. "So I can finish cleaning her up."

Chrissie's face was tomato red as she howled. The child was completely confused, frightened and distraught about what is happening. Tears streamed down her little face, and she held her fists to her eyes. She thought her brothers would be happy to see their father, since he had been away for so long.

"Baby, do you want me to leave or to stay?" John asked, looking at his little daughter with sincere eyes. "Please, don't cry. I'm only gonna give you a harmless bath."

Dean stuck is head in the hallway, his anger and stress levels rising once again.

"Bobby! Bring me my gun!" yelled the sickly older teenager.

Sam glared at his brother, still holding the youngest in his arms.

"Dean, stop it!" he barked, as a terrified Chrissie buried her tear stained face into his collar. "You're scaring her."

Chrissie wriggled out of her Sam's arms, and dropped onto the floor. She then ran away into her bedroom in tears.

"That's just great," remarked Sam, sarcastically, as he grabbed a clean towel. He rushed after his sister. "Chrissie!"

John attempted to go after his daughter. He felt incredibly guilty about upsetting her. He honestly had no idea about her hydrophobia.

Dean blocked him from leaving the bathroom, his green eyes filled with anger.

"Get the hell outta my house!" he hissed.

That statement stung John's feelings. There wasn't a day that went passed that he regretted that one hunt, that resulted in his small daughter coming to harm.

"Your house?" John chuckled, "I guess you're still delirious then."

John pushed his weak son aside, but only to be met by a shotgun. Bobby stared down the barrel, his eyes were also blaring with anger.

"It'll always be there house!" Bobby shouted. "You got three seconds to leave, before I start shooting!"

John held his hands defensively to his chest, his eyes focused on the gun that was pointed at him.

"Let me see my little girl, she needs me" stated John.

The sudden gunshot narrowly missed John, but still made a very loud noise.

"What the hell happened?" Sam asked, peaking his head out Chrissie's bedroom door.

He was tightly holding the little one in his arms.

"Nothin', the gun accidentally went off," lied Bobby. He glanced at the small girl in Sam's arms. "You okay, darlin'?"

Chrissie couldn't speak, since she was too frightened.

Dean was about take hold her, when another shot went off. Sam quickly handed Dean the scared child, in order to put a stop to this.

"Dad, Bobby!" declared Sam. "Stop it! Hold on a second!"

Bobby turned, just in time for the other hunter to take the weapon away from him. Chrissie had been perched on the toilet seat, as Dean wiped her streaming eyes with tissues.

"Balls!" grunted the older hunter.

The younger teenager held his hands up defensively as he stood in front of Bobby. Even though his opinion on his father had been fixed for a few years now, he still felt the unusual need to at least find a way to reason with him. It was like swallowing a very bitter pill.

"Dad, put the gun down," said Sam. "I think you should go. I'll call you in the morning. Maybe we could meet you for a late breakfast. I need to speak to Dean about this."

Chrissie gazed at her father with blurred eye sight, due to her tears.

"Daddy" she croaked tearfully, her tiny hand reaching out for him.

The males found this sight hard to look at. Chrissie always had a special gift at pulling heart strings.

"I'm here, baby," said John quietly, squeezing his daughter's little hand gently. "I'm not going anywhere."

Chrissie just held her small fists up at her eyes, and cried.

"Dad, lets get her cleaned up. Then you should leave," said Sam, while Dean shot him dirty looks. "Come back tomorrow."

Knowing full well his sister didn't understand, Sam took action.

"Everybody out. I'm gonna get her cleaned up, okay?" he stated.

Sam pushed the others out of the room, locking the door behind them. He knelt down at the toilet, gazing intently at his little sister.

"Lets get you cleaned up, and into fresh Pjs," he said. "Even though its not bedtime, lets do this, then we can go downstairs and have a small dinner."

Chrissie timidly nodded her head. She had a mournful expression in her eyes, as her brother scrubbed her face with a wash cloth.

"Can you tell me what you're thinking?" asked Sam, while he helped her into fresh pyjamas.

Chrissie wrinkled her nose, making her look adorable and innocent.

"Why is everybody mad at Daddy?" she asked with a cute pout, which expressed her confusion. "I don't understand. Dean and Uncle bobby don't want me going near Daddy. I'm not allowed."

Sam sighed, his heart heavy with sadness.

"Don't worry about that, Chrissie," replied the thirteen year old, before changing the subject matter. "What do you want for dinner?"

Chrissie didn't reply, she went into her bedroom and hid underneath the folds of her bed sheets. Sam sighed, and followed her. The teen sat on the bed, a small notebook in his hand.

"How about I finish reading you _'Martin the Friendly Zombie', _that story I wrote for you several months back?" suggested Sam. "Goober was enjoying the story, since he is Martin's side kick."

When she didn't answer, Sam continued to read his imaginary story from his notebook.

Chrissie remained silent. Actions which were very out of character for the five year old.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Dean paced back and forth.

"Why in the hell don't ya just leave already?" hissed Dean, his glare focus on John.

He still couldn't let go of the fact that he put the baby of the family in danger, and then claimed that hunting was more important.

"I'm you're father!" John barked. "I was worried!"

In the corner of the kitchen, Bobby took a large swig of whiskey straight from the bottle.

"Do you see what you've done?!" snapped Dean, indicating up at the ceiling, to where Chrissie's bedroom was located.

John hated this conversation, and felt utter guilt in being reminded of his stupid mistakes.

"Do I have to keep repeating myself with you! I did it to get that spirit! I never wanted Chrissie to get hurt!" shouted John. "I did it to save innocent people. What gives you the right to judge me! I'm still you're father, and I demand respect."

The older teenager just scoffed and turned his back to his father. John immediately got into his eldest son's personal space.

"You got something to say, then say it!" growled John. "Answer me right now, boy! That's an order!"

Furious at the battle going on under his roof, Bobby took another gulp of whiskey.

"Or what?" challenged Dean, glaring at his father. "You gonna hit me again?"

Bobby was ready to say something, however Dean silenced him with a shake of the head.

John looked his son up and down. Words couldn't describe in incredible amount of guilt he felt over the whole situation.

"Son, please, I'm not in a fighting mood," explained John. "It was a mistake, and I can understand why you all hate me. But, just think of Chrissie. She's only a little girl, and we can't keep fighting and arguing in front of her."

Dean just glared at him, his arms folded. He then noticed Sam coming down the stairs.

"Let me do all the talking, okay?" mumbled Dean, slightly pushing his father out of the way. "Sammy, how is she?"

Sam simply shrugged his shoulders in defeat, as he was unsuccessful in cheering his baby sister up.

"I'll go see her then" John remarked.

Dean glowered at John, like a protective guard dog. He wasn't letting him any where near Chrissie, until she was emotionally ready.

"No, I'll go!" Dean barked, before he bolted up the stairs.

Sam watched his brother vanish upstairs, his own aching heart still heavy from dealing with his little sister.

"Dad, maybe you should leave," muttered the thirteen year old. "Come back in the morning like I said earlier."

John sat down in a chair at the kitchen table. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily.

"Sammy, you don't understand what I was thinking. I thought my kids were in trouble, and dropped everything," said John, gazing at his younger son. "That alone should say that I care about you all. You three are all that I have left. Besides, Dean's not the adult, or the parent. I'm you're father, not him."

Sam looked at his father. For the first time in a very long time, his father seemed sincere, and not his usual military self.

"Dad, I'm sorry it ended up this way," said Sam. "Dean was right to bring us here."

There was a calm silence between father and son, that is until they could hear the little girl crying upstairs.

Dean tried holding his sister, but she kept pulling away. Despite being small, she was strong enough to do so.

"Baby, let me help. I wanna make it all better" begged Dean, trying to hold onto her.

'_How can I let him back into our lives? She's too young to understand that he put us in danger. If only I didn't get sick, none of this would've happened' _thought the seventeen year old.

His cramps began again, causing him to double over in pain. The agony in his lower abdomen was getting worse. Sweat continued to gather on his brow. Chrissie noticed something odd about her big brother's behavior. The tears stopped, as she focused her attention onto her eldest sibling.

"C-C-Chrissie, g-g-get Bobby" muttered Dean, as he suddenly collapsed off the bed, landing onto the ground with a thud.

Chrissie instantly went to her brother's side, and began shaking his unconscious body, but having no luck what so ever. Terrified, Chrissie began screaming.

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**Evil cliff hanger! Mwahahaha! Terrible, I know, but it'll keep interest and suspense about what is gonna happen next :)**

**Stay tuned!**

**Please review!**

**(p.s. if any of you guys have ideas or requests regarding the wee chris series, then like me know, either through PM, or through a review)**


	41. Hospital

**Hey guys, here is the long awaited update for the weeChris saga. Again, sorry for the long delay, college has been a real bitch and has made me feel kinda depressed.**

**Still, here is the new chapter! Also a shout out to the wonderful kissacazador for her help with this chapter! :)**

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Chrissie squeaked and raced out the room. The five year old was in a panic, as she bolted downstairs to find Bobby, but instead she collided with her father.

"Whoa baby girl, where's the fire?" John asked, kneeling down to his small daughter's level and gently placing his hands on her shaking shoulders.

Sam knew by instinct that something was very wrong, judging by his little sister's body language and tears.

"Dad, I think she's trying to say something" mentioned Sam, with a frown of concern.

The terrified five year old squeaked and pointed upstairs, before rushing over to Bobby and fiercely tugging at his arm with all her strength.

"What is it, darlin'?" asked Bobby.

Chrissie kept sobbing, and pointing up. Bobby looked at Sam, who shrugged in confusion. John leaned down to scoop her up.

"Where's Dean?" he questioned.

After the child mumbled incoherent words, John immediately handed her off to Bobby and bolted up the stairs with Sam in tow.

"He's sick again, he spat out red paint," wept the little girl. "He musta eaten paint and that's why he's sick."

Bobby tried his best to console the small child in his arms, but it was a difficult task to calm her down.

"Shhh, little darlin'. He'll be fine," said Bobby, knowing full well Dean was probably real sick. "Lets get ya some water for your hiccups."

With scarlet red and tear stained cheeks, Chrissie gazed up at the aging hunter.

"Dean's sick…_hick_… I don't have..._hick_, " she answered, in between hiccupping.

John and Sam frantically entered the room, to find Dean passed out on the floor, blood dripping from his closed lips. John took his son, laid him flat on his back and checked for a pulse.

"Dammit!" he yelled. "Sammy, I think his appendix burst. We need to get him to the emergency room at the hospital, right now."

John then used all his strength to carry his seventeen year old son in his arms, whilst Sam rushed downstairs to find Bobby. What would they tell Chrissie? She was only going to get more upset. Bobby heard the stomping coming down the stairs and knew it wasn't good news, as Sam appeared in front of his face.

"Bobby, we're taking Dean to the hospital, right now," the younger teenager said, his tone laced with worry. "Don't worry Chrissie, we'll be back soon."

The little girl sitting on the living room couch took great offence to this statement. Something was wrong, and they were all hiding something from her.

"Hospital?!" squeaked Chrissie, clambering off the couch. "Oh no! You can't do that! No! Dean hates hospitals!"

The child then caught sight of her cherished hero in the arms of their father, and she let out a gasp of shock and fright, whilst placing her tiny hands to her mouth.

"Sammy, go start the Impala. Bobby get the front door, and call the hospital to say we're bringing in a possible appendix rupture, and tell them it's urgent" ordered John, and everyone ventured to their emergency tasks.

Chrissie tugged and pawed at her father's leg, as if she was a puppy wanting to be noticed by her owner.

"Daddy, no hospital!" she shrieked in despair. "Dean would be super mad."

John gave his daughter a small smile, as he admired her protective and loyal nature.

"Baby, he'll be okay, I promise. Just stay with Uncle Bobby, and be my big brave girl" he said, his voice somewhat gentle.

Chrissie watched from the doorway, as her father carefully laid her sick brother in the backseat of the car.

"Sammy, get in the back with your brother!" John shouted, before he ran to the driver's side.

Within seconds, the Impala was speeding away and no longer in sight. Bobby gently pushed the little girl inside and closed the door, whilst on the phone with the hospital.

Chrissie looked very lost and very innocent, as she clutched onto her teddy bear, shivering in fright.

"Oh jeez, this is gonna be one long night," Bobby mumbled, grabbing a blanket and a pillow. "Let's make up a bed on the couch, so ya can rest up before yer Daddy and brothers get back."

Chrissie wandered over to the couch with her teddy bear, and then climbed up, to which she laid on her front with her head in her skinny arms.

It was hard for the gruff hunter to be affectionate with kids, especially females. Sam and Dean were pretty easy going when they were young children, but this little girl made Bobby's hardened heart melt.

Fifteen minutes later, Bobby discovered that the little girl was sound asleep, completely worn out with emotion.

He sighed with relief, and then grabbed a cold beer from the fridge. All he could do now was wait to hear from John or Sam. The hunter must have fallen asleep at the kitchen table, as in the early hours of the following morning, the phone ringing startled him awake.

It was Sam, explaining Dean came through the emergency surgery for a ruptured appendix, and was expected to make a full recovery. He also stated they would remain there until Dean was well enough.

After the phone call, the hunter gave a heavy sigh and rubbed his face with his hands. He then glanced over at the sleeping child on his old couch, a plaid blanket wrapped around her skinny frame.

"Well darlin', it looks like where in for a longer day" he mumbled, sitting in a nearby chair, his eyes ready to close.

They slept for the next several hours. When Bobby awaken, he quietly made his way over to the little girl on the couch. He rubbed her hair in an attempt to wake her up.

"Darlin', you hungry?" Bobby asked, as Chrissie stirred, to which both of her eyes blinked several time to open. "Good morning, sunshine."

Chrissie's dark brown hair made her look as if she had been struck by a bolt of lighting, resulting in an ultimate bed head style.

"Is Dean back?" she asked in a small and hopeful whisper, whilst rubbing her eyes with her small fists.

The child hugged her teddy bear to her chest, after giving the odd looking toy a kiss on it's button nose.

"Not yet, but he'll be back soon," Bobby replied. "The doctors fixed him up real good though."

Chrissie wiggled her toes, as she processed in her mind what was happening.

"Can I go and see him?" asked the five year old. "He needs me. It's my job to look after him and make sure he is safe. That's what little sisters do."

Bobby gently petted the child's crazy hair, knowing that his next statement would sting.

"No, not yet," he said, watching as tears filled the little girl's eyes once again. "We have to wait and see what happens first."

Distraught, Chrissie began to cry in Bobby's arms. She could never fully cope with separation from her family, especially her big brothers. Her brothers were her whole world, and without them she felt lost and stricken with despair.

In the hospital, John waited at his sleeping son's bedside. The teenager has lost all color in his face. John felt strong guilt, as it was him that triggered his son's stress and illness.

"How is he, Dad?" Sam quietly asked, walking back into the room after talking to Bobby.

John briefly gazed at Sam, before returning his focus towards his eldest son.

"He's stable, but doing better," replied John. "The doctor said Dean should make a full recovery, but will need to take better care of himself from now on."

Sam nodded in contemplation, whilst chewing the inside of his mouth. Stress had been effecting him too, resulting in a break out of angry red spots across his forehead and chin.

"Bobby said Chrissie is doing fine, but cried most of the night," said the thirteen year old, before taking a short pause. "Dad, what's gonna happen to all of us when Dean gets out of here? Chrissie has just settled down in a stable environment, and she is gonna be starting kindergarten at the end of summer. Is it wise to uproot us all again?"

John sighed and pulled out two chairs from against the wall, and then indicating his son to sit.

"Son, everything's extremely complicated, but I'm still the head of this family and I'll decide what is best. I will sit down and discuss all of this with Dean when he gets better," explained John. "I love all three of you very much and I'll do my best, for Dean, Chrissie and you."

A low grunt was soon heard, causing John and Sam to turn their heads to the older teenager. Both immediately went to his side.

"Sammy, go get the doctor" ordered John.

Sam ran out of the room, as John took a damp cloth to wipe the forehead of his eldest child.

"Dean, careful. You don't wanna pull out your IV" said John to his seventeen year old son.

The teenager moaned, whilst slowly opening his eyes. The smell of a particular disinfectant, and certain noises, gave away the identity of environment he was in. Dean mumbled curse words under his breath, as it dawned on him that he was trapped in a hospital bed.

"C-C-C-C-Chrissie" mumbled Dean, slightly coughing.

His bleary eyes attempted to gain some sort of focus, and to determine the location of his father's voice.

"Shhhhh," hushed John, leaning in with a small glass of water. "Have a few small sips of water."

The cold liquid gently slipped down Dean's parched throat, making him sigh with relief.

"C-C-Chrissie," the ill teenager croaked. "W-Where's t-the baby?"

The last thing he could remember was collapsing in pain, in front of his baby sister, which he knew would have given the poor little thing a terrible fright.

"Calm down, son," said an exhausted John, although more harshly than he intended. "She's fine; Bobby's looking after her."

Sam walked in with the doctor and a nurse, as John moved out of the way. The nurse examined the older teenager and checked every detail of his vitals.

"I'll be back later to talk to you about your health, and the changes you need to adjust to continue to be on the road to recovery" said the male doctor with raven black hair.

They left the room, as Dean looked ashamed.

"The b-baby?" he asked again. "Oh God, I s-scared the b-baby"

John was getting frustrated with his eldest once again. It was all this stress was making him ill.

"Dean, she's fine" John repeated, looking annoyed.

Sam saw that look, but held his tongue. He needed to focus on his brother's health and wellbeing.

"Hey man, you want me to call Chrissie?" asked Sam, with a small hopeful smile.

Dean sat up too quickly, causing him to wince in pain and clutch at his side.

"Call her? No," replied Dean, with a slight grimace of discomfort on his face. "I wanna see her."

John placed a hand on his eldest son's shoulder, and gently pushed him back down onto the hospital bed mattress.

"That's not gonna happen," responded John, handing his eldest son his phone. "Call her whenever you feel like it."

Sam wanted to say something since his father was making the situation unnecessarily stressful, and that was the very last thing his big brother needed.

"Dad, what's wrong with letting Bobby bring Chrissie to visit? I don't think we'll get in too much hassle," said Sam. "We'll let Chrissie say hello from the doorway. This way no one gets in trouble."

Dean had already snatched the phone, and was dialling Bobby's house number.

At Bobby's house, Chrissie was sitting in silence on the couch, hugging Goober close to her chest. Bobby heard the phone.

The older man answered it, and spent under a minute having a conversation with the sick teen on the other end of the phone line. He then pulled the phone away from his ear, as he gazed across at the child sitting on the couch.

"Hey, Darlin'," called Bobby, which gained the little girl's instant attention. "Dean's on the phone for ya"

Chrissie immediately leapt off the couch, and ran as fast as she could towards the phone, even squealing when it was handed to her.

"Dean!" squealed the little girl, becoming emotional with happiness and worry. "Where are you?"

Chrissie was thrilled to hear her big brother's voice again, as she had been up most of the night crying with worry.

"_Hey sweetie, I'm in_…," answered Dean, before he paused to catch his breath. "_I'm in the hospital. S'okay, I'm better now_."

The five year old pouted, and clutched onto Goober with her free arm for comfort.

"Nobody is telling me anything," stated the child. "I've been crying all day and all night for you. Goober is very sad too."

Chrissie could hear her brother let out a small sigh, followed by a dry cough. The child wanted to make sure her big brother was safe, as she thought the world of him.

"_Yeah, sorry about that. I needed a small operation to make me better and to make the pain go away_," Dean calmly stated, as his father was motioning to hurry up. "_Baby, here's Sammy. He wants to speak with you too. I love you_."

This statement reassured the tiny five year old, and made her smile with happiness. Sam was now in charge of the conversation over the telephone.

"_Chrissie, you wanna come down to the hospital and see Dean_?" asked the thirteen year old, which made Chrissie squeal with utter joy once again.

Chrissie bounced up and down, her bare feet gently slapping the wooden floor.

"Yeah! I would love too!" she replied, before craning her head over her shoulder when she heard Bobby clear his throat. "Oh, Uncle Bobby wants to speaks to you now."

There was a slight crackle on the other end of the phone line, but nothing could wipe the grin of the child's face. That is, until she heard the next statement.

"_Sure thing, but remember when you get to the hospital with Uncle Bobby, you need to be quiet_," Sam told her, in a soft tone. "_We hafta to sneak you in. You gotta be real, real quiet, okay_?"

Chrissie's nose wrinkled in confusion, and she cocked her head to the side like a puppy.

"Why?" asked the curious and bemused five year old.

Once again, her nose made a small tic. Whenever something puzzled her or caused her to contemplate, her nose would twitch.

"_You gotta be a certain height to enter the patients' rooms, and you're too little_," explained Sam, trying to make her understand. "_I'll hold you up at the window, then you look in the room and say hi. I'm sorry, but that's all we can do until you get taller_."

The smile disappeared from Chrissie's face, and was replaced by the all too familiar wobbling pout.

"So, I can't go in and give hugs?" she replied.

Tears began to fill her big green eyes, which were already red rimmed from tears she had spilled down her cheeks hours before.

"_No, sorry_," answered Sam, softly. "_Plus, he can't have hugs for at least two more days. Can you be a big girl and just say hi from the door, it'll mean a lot to Dean if you could_."

Chrissie shoved the phone into Bobby's hand, as she then ran away upstairs to her bedroom, with Goober under her arm. Several moments later, Bobby knocked on the child's bedroom door, and quietly entered the room.

"Darlin', we need to get ya cleaned up coz we'll be leaving for the hospital in a couple of hours" said the aging hunter.

He discovered the little girl crying into her patched up teddy bear, whilst curled up on her bed.

"Oh, Dean's gonna be just fine. He talked to you on the phone, didn't he?" said Bobby, as he sat down next to her. "He's better now, so lets get ready to go see him."

The little girl gently wept at the idea of being forbidden from having contact with her beloved brother.

"I wanna give hugs though," sniffled the little girl. "I love hugs"

Bobby gently petted the child's fluffy hair.

"Well, if ya promise not to tell anyone," whispered Bobby, as he leaned in closer. "I'll help ya sneak into Dean's room, but only for one quick hug, just one, okay?"

Bobby was almost winded, when the little girl tackled him into a fierce hug.

"Well, I take that as a yes," chuckled Bobby. "One hug and that's it. Show us all that you're a big girl. So, that means no crying, yelling or tackling."

Chrissie nodded her head, with several stray tears slithering down her cheeks.

"I'll try to be a big girl" replied the small child.

Back at the hospital, Sam departed to grab some food for himself. This gave John the chance to speak with his eldest. However the discussion about Dean's health, eventually turned into an argument regarding the motel ghost and Chrissie's traumatic infant ghost sickness. The argument quickly ended once Sam returned to the room. Dean didn't want to involve Sam in the argument.

Two hours later, John was standing outside his son's hospital room, when he saw Bobby walking down the hallway, with his little girl following close behind him.

"Daddy, I missed you!" declared Chrissie, running into her father's waiting arms.

John knelt down in front of his daughter and cupped her face in his hands, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. He gave her a warn, comforting smile, although John was aware of the wary look he was getting from Bobby.

"I wanna see Dean" said the five year old, her wavy hair tied up in two messy, lopsided pigtails.

John gave a slight chuckle, giving into to her adorable demands. Chrissie was wearing her best gingham dress, even though she hated wearing dresses, but she wanted to look smart for her father and brothers. Bobby had even helped her polish her old t-bar Mary-Jane shoes.

"C'mon, he's just down the hall" smiled John, as he carefully picked her up, whilst trying not to wrinkle her dress.

Chrissie felt a sudden chill zoom by her, causing her to shudder and wrinkle her nose in disgust, as if there was a bad smell.

"Hospitals are stinky, and very cold," remarked the little girl. "Why is Dean here?"

That was another innocent oddity about Chrissie, is that she would complain about the smell and temperature of any hospital that she visited. Everybody assumed that she was just hypersensitive about certain things.

"He got himself sick, but he's better now," answered John, stopping at his son's door. "Alright sweetheart, now you gotta understand that Dean's in bed and looking kinda bad, but he really is doing much better."

John opened slowly the door, as Sam appeared.

"Hey, Chrissie, you ready to see Dean now?" asked Sam, as his little sister was placed onto the ground.

The child nodded and took Sam's hand, who then lead her into the quiet room. On seeing her eldest brother laid up in a hospital bed, with an IV drip sticking into his arm, Chrissie let out a tiny gasp of horror as she let go of Sam's hand.

"Shhhh, he's resting, but he is just fine" whispered Sam.

Bobby knelt down at the youngest level, and gave her a gentle nudge towards Dean's bed.

"C'mon, I promised ya a quick hug" said the old hunter, giving the five year old girl an encouraging smile.

Chrissie wandered over to the bed and carefully climbed up. The sudden movement caused the eldest teenager to wake up.

"Hi, sweetheart," said Dean hoarsely, a sleepy smile on his face as he held his arms out for a hug. "C'mere."

A protective Chrissie wrapped her little arms loosely around him, trying to squeeze him. The five year old was very gentle and caring with her brother. She nestled into his good side and gazed up at him.

"I've missed you so much" stated the tiny girl, with tears filling her eyes once again.

Dean stroked his vulnerable baby sister's freckled cheek, as he looked down at her.

"Me too," said Dean, as he kissed the top of her head. "I love you, but no more crying over me. I'm recovering."

Chrissie cocked her head, as she gazed up at her big brother. The innocent expression on her face was just plain adorable.

"I was crying all day and night because I missed you so much" stated Chrissie. "I was frightened that nobody was taking care of you."

Dean's heart swelled with pride and admiration for his baby sister's strong sense of loyalty. He just hoped that their inseparable bond would never break or become damaged.

"I know it musta been confusing, sweetheart, but all is better now," said Dean, with a small smile. "You gotta stop crying and get a good night's sleep, so I can stop worrying about you."

The small child simply sighed, with a pout developing on her face.

"Uh oh, guys, the nurse is coming" said Sam, who had been standing watch.

Dean knew what was coming next, and he was dreading to see and hear his sister's reaction.

"I'll distract her, while Bobby takes the baby outta here" declared John as he joined Sam outside.

Dean prepared himself for the heartbreak that was coming up within the next few seconds. Chrissie gave him and Bobby a very confused expression.

"I'm so sorry, Darlin', but we gotta go now. The nurse is comin'. Say your goodbyes" mumbled Bobby, hating the fact that he was the one separating the siblings.

Chrissie's bright green eyes began to water, as they resembled a scolded puppy. The pout on her face began to tremble, as she brought her small fists to her eyes.

"Chrissie, I'll see you in a couple of days," said Dean. "Maybe you can draw me some more awesome pictures?"

Bobby reached his hand out to the little girl, while Sam was motioning them to hurry.

The older teenager's heart strings were being strained at the sight of his little sister's eyes filling up with tears. Dean slightly pushed Chrissie toward the older hunter and with a slight squeal, she was in Bobby's arms. Chrissie began to cry.

Sam slowly opened the door, after seeing his father had the nurse turned around, so she couldn't see the door.

"It's all clear, so immediately turn left and then no one will see you" said the thirteen year old.

Bobby nodded at the boys, whilst holding the youngest in his arms.

"Bye Bobby. I love you, Chrissie" whispered Dean, waving from his hospital bed.

The only answer Dean got from the five year old, was a very tearful expression. It hurt him so much to see her go.

Bobby put the heartbroken little girl down, once they entered the hospital lobby.

"Do you wanna get a snack or something before we go home?" asked the old hunter.

When Chrissie didn't reply, he patted her head and lead her to the exit doors with a loud sigh. Bobby knew one things, that he was gonna need a large supply of tissues for the next couple of days. At this rate, his home would become flooded with the tears of a child.

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**What kinda pictures do you think Chrissie should draw for the sick Dean? Funny? Cute? Dragons VS Dinosaurs? Cowboys VS Aliens?**

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	42. Dragons in Sandy Francisco

**Hey guys, here is a little chapter featuring a guest appearance from a certain blue eyed stranger.**

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Back in the hospital room, Dean lay on his side, his mind remaining on his little sister. An expression of misery was painted on his face. John entered the room with the doctor and nurse.

"Dean, they have the results from your tests and we need to go over them now," said John, before turning to his younger son. "Sammy, maybe you should go home with Bobby."

Sam instantly looked to his brother with concern.

"No, Dad, I'm not going anywhere," declared the young teenager. "I need to stay here."

The weary father grabbed his younger son's arm, more aggressively than he meant, causing the youth to let out a small gasp.

"I'm sorry, but I want ya to leave and that's an order," stated John, trying to reason with his son.

Like his baby sister, Sam would do anything for his big brother, and would never let anything bad happen to him. Not while he was around that is.

"No! I'm staying with Dean and you can't make me leave!" shouted a defiant Sam, only to be confronted by the doctor.

Sam lowered his head, feeling his cheeks burn with utter anger and outrage. He was thirteen years old, and he was being treated as if he was Chrissie's age.

"Kid, I think your father is right," said the doctor. "You've been here all night, so it might be best to get some rest at home."

Sam was stunned and needed assurance from his sick brother, who had remained quiet. The 13 year old returned his gaze to his father, before storming out the room and down the corridor, his anger levels rising to a high degree. The younger teenager was getting more irritated with his father's attitude to everything these days.

Dean wasn't even listening when the doctor explained the causes and effects of appendicitis, and the recovery process. He hated hospitals, as it revolved around him being trapped within a environment filled with the sick or dying. Plus, it was boring as hell in his mind.

Several moments later, John returned, after having conversation with the doctor outside. John sat down at his ill son's bedside.

"Dean, we need to talk about things" he mumbled, aware of the mood clouding over the youth's mind.

The teenager refused to answer him. The seventeen year old was very aware that Chrissie would be crying an sea of tears and breaking her little heart because of him. It was all that he could think about.

Two days later, and Chrissie was still in a very sombre mood. Regardless of having Sam and Bobby for company, she missed her eldest brother dearly.

The little girl sat on her bed, drawing pictures with her colored pens and pencils. Goober was leaning on the pillow, his black buttoned eyes stared out blankly into space.

"It's not the same around here without Dean," she sighed, scribbling in part of her ninth drawing with a blue pencil. "I love Sammy and Uncle Bobby, but there just not the same. You know what I'm saying, don't ya Goober."

Chrissie glanced at her patch-work teddy bear, and let out a cute and heavy sigh.

"This picture is the best one yet," she added, holding up her finished drawing of the Impala and the Golden Gate Bridge. "Remember when we droved over the Goldie Gate Bridge in Sandy Francisco. Well, I've drawed the Impala going over the Goldie Gate Bridge, but I then drawed huge wings on her. Now the Impala can be friends and fly with Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Sammy says that the Chinese people keep dragons in Sandy Francisco, and they let them out on their special New Year. Next time, Goober, when we're in Sandy Francisco, we're gonna catch a dragon."

There was a sudden chill in the room, followed by an mysterious fluttering sound. Chrissie smiled at this, and gazed up to see that her imaginary friend Cassie has appeared.

"Hello Cassie," she said. "Have you come to visit again? Oh, I know, you can come with me and Goober to catch dragons in Sandy Francisco. We would have to tell Sammy and Uncle Bobby first, before we go."

The man cocked his head at the child, confusion being expressed in his wise blue eyes.

"Uh, I've never been aware of a multiple dragon infestation in San Francisco?" he stated. "Are you sure this is a valuable source of information? Or is it just false?"

Puzzled by her friend's choice of big words, Chrissie just shrugged and placed down her pencils and pens. She had been drawing pictures for over an hour and a half.

"You miss your brother, don't you?" questioned Cassie, in which he rewarded with a nod from the child. "I assure you one thing, my child, is that my own brothers and I are looking out for him."

It was Chrissie's turn to tilt her head in bemusement.

"You got brothers too? How many?" she asked.

Cassie dusted off non existing material from the lapels of his tan trench coat.

"Too many to count," he replied. "I have thousands of brothers and sisters. Those details should be of no importance to you, my child."

Chrissie sniffed, and twitched her nose.

"You look tired, little one," added Cassie. "It is time for you to take some rest. I will watch over you."

Even though it was only one o'clock in the afternoon, Chrissie had been up most of the night crying for her eldest brother, causing her to be exhausted the following day. If given the option, Chrissie would never turn down an afternoon nap anyway.

After clearing up her drawings, pens and pencils, Chrissie crawls underneath her bed sheets with her teddy bear in her arms. She is still wearing her green _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles _t-shirt, and denim overalls.

"You still wanna come to Sandy Francisco with Goober and me, to catch the dragons?" asked the five year old. "You got wings Cassie, so we can all fly there together. I'm gonna catch a big red dragon, and I'm gonna call it Chilli, because chillies are red. Goober said his dragon is gonna be called Brian, because he likes the name Brian."

The trench coated man simply blinked at the child, unable to understand her active imagination. A tiny flicker of a smile tugged on the corners of the man's mouth, which was an unusual emotion to him.

"Rest now, little one," he stated, gazing down at her. "You can worry about dragons and chilli another day."

Within several minutes, the little girl was sound asleep, finally resting with her two best friends at her side. Friends, which were both imaginary creations within the mind of a lonely five year old girl.

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	43. Hello Lolly!

**Hey guys! Just a little filler chapter before Dean's return from hospital, which will include alot of sibling fluff and cute moments. In this chapter, there is a surprise cameo. Guess who! :)**

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Chrissie hummed to herself, as she pottered around her small but cosy bedroom. The little girl was still pining for her big brother to return from hospital, and she would burst into tears at random. The child carried her teddy bear under her skinny arm, as she wandered around the room. Her eyes fell onto the picture frame on her bedside table. It was a photograph taken two years previous, and it was of a three year old Chrissie and her brothers sitting on the front porch of Bobby's house. On gazing at this picture frame, the five year old started to cry.

"Oh Goober, I miss Dean," sobbed the little girl, breaking her heart over her absent big brother. "I want him back here, so I can look after him myself. I don't like doctors, and hospitals feel funny. Dean is all alone there."

Tears dripped onto the stitched material of the teddy bear's stomach, it's buttoned eyes vacant of any emotion. After plonking herself onto her bed, Chrissie buried her face into her teddy bear, imagining her stuffed companion was hugging her back.

"Aw, c'mon what's with the waterworks?" came a sudden voice, which startled the small girl. "Kids are supposed to be happy, aren't they?"

Chrissie gulped and gazed around the room, searching for the strange voice, which clearly was male.

"Who are you?" she asked aloud. "Where are you? Sammy says if your gonna speak to somebody, then you gotta talk to their face. I can't see you?"

Suddenly, a figure popped up in front of her, causing her to let out a frightened squeal. The man had brown hair and was slightly short in stature, and bore an expression of mischief. He was wearing a very flamboyant shirt.

"Hey, it's alright, I'm not the child catcher or anything," he stated. "Don't scream."

Chrissie monitored the stranger with great awe and caution. This man was much odder compared to her friend Cassie. She raised a quizzical eyebrow, whilst drying her tears with the back of her hand.

"That's a pretty shirt you got mister," commented the child, her green eyes filled with curiosity and wonder. "It's very bright."

The man beamed, as if he was recollecting a memory.

"Ah, this thing, you see I'm just back from a vacation in Hawaii with Miss World," smirked the male. "I would go into further detail, but you're a little kid. The stuff we did, hell, it should never been discussed in front of children."

Even though she clearly didn't understand the innuendo, the child giggled, whilst still holding onto her teddy bear. A smile stretched across the five year old's mouth.

"Wanna have a pretend picnic here?" she asked.

The man produced a small red leather diary out of thin air, making Chrissie gasp in awe. He scanned through the pages.

"Yeah, why not, I don't have plans until later anyway," replied the colorful male. "Besides, why pretend. Check this out!"

Suddenly with a snap of his fingers, a various assortment of food was displayed all over the room, from sandwiches, to cakes, from burgers to candies. Once again Chrissie gasped in wonder and joy.

"Ta-da!" boasted the man, spreading his arms out wide. "This is what I call the most epic picnic ever!"

After bizarre conversation between the little girl and the mysterious stranger, most of the food was gone. The odd pair soon began singing their own imaginative rap song:

_**Pop! Sugar! Pop!**_

_**Pop! Sugar! Pop!**_

_**Happy face! Snap!**_

_**Happy face! Snap!**_

_**Wave your hands!**_

_**Wave your hands!**_

_**Pop! Sugar! Pop!**_

_**Pop! Sugar! Pop!**_

At that moment, Sam was passing his sister's room, and he could only raise an eyebrow and smile on hearing the childish tune.

A bright red strawberry lollypop was now in Chrissie's mouth, which resulted in the child dubbing her new magical friend as "Lolly."

After several more minutes, Lolly quickly made his exit, claiming that he was late in playing practical jokes on the British Royal Family. Once he left, Chrissie grinned and giggled to herself, whilst still slurping on the lollypop.

"I gotta new friend, Goober!" declared Chrissie, gazing down at her teddy bear.

Little did she, or her family know, that a lot more people were watching over her than realised. Both the good, and the bad.

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	44. Castiel's Lullaby

**Hey guys, just a quick small chapter. This chapter was created due to a dream I had the other day. Yeah. Yeah. Cheesy as hell, I know. Nevertheless, I hope you folks like it. Warning, contains angel and sibling fluff.**

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Castiel was once again keeping a close vigil over the youngest member of the Winchester family. In fact, Castiel had always been a presence within the family, ever since the birth of Dean.

Chrissie was fast asleep in her warm bed, wrapped up tightly like a caterpillar in a cocoon. The child was growing more restless, since she had been told that Dean would be home within the next two days, after being in hospital for over a week. Yet, after a comforting hug and bed time story from Sam, the little girl was soon out for the count, after a struggle to get to bed.

Castiel was perched on the edge of the child's bed, his posture rigid and his gaze focused and alert. Rain battered against the window pane, and the heavy wind howled loudly. The angel had always found something peaceful about a rain storm, then again he knew if he asked Noah's opinion about rain, then he would get a different answer.

His eyes remained on the sleeping little girl. Rain storms would be the least of the child's worries in the future, to which Castiel found a dreadful pity. Heartbreak; deception, calamity and horror, would be the storms that the youngest would eventually have to battle alongside her family.

"Corruption is the result of fractured and damaged innocence," remarked the angel, his voice low and hushed. "My child, don't give into the corruption. You are still so young and pure, and if only you can remain this way. Yet, the forces against my Father will make sure that you will break and give into them, but I trust my Father and I know he will go to every length of protect you and your family. If only you knew about your fate. Not only your own, but that of your brothers."

The little girl wriggled underneath her bed sheets, and yawned in an adorable manner. Castiel sighed.

"Still, the time will come" he added, as he leaned over and gently petted the little girl on the head. "Furthermore, I shall be there."

Suddenly, a flash of lighting and a loud rumble of thunder crashed over head, which illuminated the dark night sky.

Castiel flinched nervously, as Chrissie woke in an instant and began screaming. The angel was clueless at what to do, or how to react. Was she in pain? Distress? Angry? It soon dawned on him, as he noted the tears streaming down her scarlet cheeks, that his small human ward was frightened.

Castiel twitched once again, as Chrissie threw herself into his arms, in order to seek comfort. The angel remained as stiff as ironing board, his eyes darting around the room. _'What happens now? How does one comfort a human?' _pondered the angel.

"Cassie!" wailed the little girl. "Save me! I'm frightened!"

The angel timidly patted the child on the back, as she continued to cry out in fear. He cleared his throat as Chrissie was accidentally tugging onto his tie, whilst clinging onto him.

"Hush, my child," replied Castiel. "There is no need to fear the rain storms. My Father created the rain and clouds after all. Do you fear my Father?"

The sniffling child simply shook her head, and wiped her running nose against the lapel of Castiel's trench coat. Castiel blinked down at the smeared mess on his lapel, and once again cleared his throat.

"Lay your head upon your pillow, my child," instructed the angel, as he gently pushed Chrissie back down. "From my observations, it has come to my belief that a lullaby will sooth your worries."

The little girl cuddled up under her bed sheets once more, with her teddy bear tucked under her arm.

"Uh huh," she pouted. "Sing _'Hey Jude' _Cassie, that's the lullaby my brothers sing."

Castiel blinked down at the child, and a small smile tugged on the corners of his mouth.

"Oh sweet child, I'm afraid I do not know of that lullaby" he replied, his tone soft and gentle. "Though I shall sing the songs of my brothers and sisters."

Chrissie wrinkled her nose in adorable confusion, as an unusual sounding language fluttered from the mouth of her companion. The beautiful Enochian lullaby drifted around the small room, to the point it almost calmed the thunder storm itself.

When Castiel had finished his song, he gazed down to find the little girl asleep. At that moment, the door opened and Sam peeked in. The youth's eyes were blurry with exhaustion and concerned, having heard the cries of his baby sister.

"Chrissie?" he called out, his voice in a hushed whisper. Carefully, he padded over towards the bed. "Are you alright?"

The angel sitting on the bed was invisible to the young boy, therefore Castiel's presence remained unnoticed.

"Go back to sleep, Sam," said the angel. "No need to worry, as I'm watching over both of you."

Sam was deaf to Castiel's voice, making the angel's simple request go unheard. The thirteen year old leaned down, and planted a kiss on his baby sister's exposed forehead. He then gently eased himself down onto the bed, and curled up underneath the bed sheets. Chrissie, regardless of being in a deep slumber, sensed the movement, and realised it was her brother. The tiny girl then snuggled up next to Sam.

Castiel watched the siblings in awe. Kinship between siblings was something he could relate too. On observing the children before him, the angel felt a pang of home sickness. Nevertheless, Castiel had duties on Earth to fulfil, and he would guard the Winchester siblings with every once of strength and power he had available.

With a sigh, Castiel continued to sing his lullaby. He only stopped, when the morning sun rose in the sky.

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	45. Dean Returns

Castiel was puzzled once again. He sat on the bed, belonging to his 5 year old ward, with a misshaped, and awkward looking paper crown on his head. The crown had been colored in with a bright yellow crayon, and had several gummy bears glued onto it, which somewhat replicated jewels.

"Is it you're intension for your brother to eat these items of confectionary?" asked the confused angel.

Chrissie gazed up at her best friend, whilst she finished off the card she was making for Dean. Thanks to Sam, her hand writing was getting better, which was a good thing, as the child was starting Kindergarten very soon. The home made card was very creative looking, with a funny looking cartoon Dean, with a fire breathing Impala at his side. Sam was also featured, as a clown, and Chrissie as a princess. Inside, the card stated simply, in red marker pen: "Weclome Home Dean, lots of love from Chrissie, Goober and Cassie."

"Silly Cassie, you can't eat jewels. Dean would need to back into hospital again, if he did," giggled the little girl. She then frowned, which made her look cute and serious at the same time. "I don't want him to leave me again."

The angel sighed.

"My child, it is almost one o'clock," he said. "Isn't you're eldest sibling due home soon?"

Chrissie gasped loudly, and began to clap her hands excitedly. The little girl then began to fuss, as she hurried about her room.

"Cassie, don't peek, I'm gonna get dressed now. I gotta look nice for my brother coming home. Uncle Bobby polished my shoes for me too. I gotta get ready" stated the 5 year old.

When the angel reopened his eyes, his little ward was dressed in an old dark green, and dirty white gingham dress. Her tiny black mary-janes glimmered due to the polished applied. Plus, regardless of brushing her hair, Chrissie's brown waves remained wild.

"I look fabulous," grinned the 5 year old, as she struck a silly, yet adorable pose. "And, when I go to Kindie-garten, I'm gonna find me a prince. Sammy and Dean said my prince will come for me one day, on a white unicorn."

Castiel blinked, just as one of the gummy bear dropped off the paper crown, to which the angel stared down at.

"Cassie, you said you would be looking after Dean when he was in the hospital. Have you been looking after him?" asked the small girl.

A glimmer of a smile tugged at the corners of Castiel's mouth.

"Yes, my child, I've been watching over him," he answered, as the child snuggled into his lap. "Your brother will recover with no complications, I assure you."

Chrissie smiled, as she cuddled into her friend. She then gazes over at her odd looking teddy bear, which was tucked into bed.

"Goober drunk too much beer last night," she stated. "He got cranky and shouted at everybody. He's gotta hangover now. Silly bear had to get put to bed like a big baby."

Castiel squirmed slightly. It was obvious to him, that John's alcoholism was beginning to be noticed by his youngest child. Noise from downstairs attracted the child's attention. One voice in particular, made her squeal in excitement and joy.

"Dean's here!" she squeaked, as she collected her home made card.

She rushed to the top of the stairs, and gazed down to see her beloved eldest brother. Dean grinned like the Cheshire Cat, as he opened his arms out.

"Hey, Chrissie, I'm back" he beamed.

The child didn't even reach the final few steps, when she suddenly leapt into her brother's arms. The little girl wept, as Dean hugged her tightly in his arms.

"Never leave me and Sammy again!" sobbed the 5 year old.

Dean hushed her, as he rubbed circles on her back. The teenager was so relieved to be back. Being away from his siblings was killing him, and so to be back with them, made him happy.

"Shhhhh. Shhhhh. I'm so sorry, sweetheart," said Dean, as he planted a kiss on his little sister's head. "I'm here now. I'll never leave you or Sammy again. That's a promise."

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**Hey guys, bet you've been wondering were I've been hiding? Basically, I've been suffering from a huge deal of the dreaded writer's block, and haven't been able to shift it for a while. But, that's me back :)**

**Plus, another random note, if you haven't read Twist and Shout or Redemption Road on livejournal, then check them out, especially if your a fan of Destiel. Stuff like that inspires me to continue with fan fiction writing.**

**Again, sorry for the long ass hiatus, just like the long one for the current season 9, which is hurting my feelings :(**

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	46. A Heart Full Of Hurt

Chrissie was snuggled up in her warm bed, with Goober cuddled up in her skinny arms. The child was literally cocooned with her pale blue bed sheets. Her room at Bobby's was small, yet cosy. The walls were a baby blue color, and was decorated with crayon and pen marks along the lower half of the walls, remnants of Chrissie's toddler years. A yellow smiley face sticker was plastered onto the lower right window pane, and after several long summers, was beginning to fade.

A loud shattering sound from downstairs, startled the five year old awake. The little girl carefully climbed out of bed, clutching her teddy bear close to her chest. She could hear her father's loud mumbling voice drifting from the living room.

"Oh, Goober, Daddy has been drinking again," sighs the little girl, as she plants a kiss on her teddy bear's oversized head. "Let's go and help him to bed. He needs looking after."

The five year old held onto the banister, as she slowly made her way down the stairs, whilst holding onto Goober with her free arm. John was sitting on the couch, with his head in his shaking hands. Three bottles of whiskey lay at his feet. He gazed up, and noticed his small daughter cautiously wandering towards him.

"Hey sweetie," slurred John. "Whatcha doin' awake at this time? Oh, did I wake you up?"

The little girl nodded her head slowly, as she cuddles Goober tightly. She was always wary of her father when he had been drinking, as his mood swings and occasions of violence frightened her. Tears filled John's sorrowful eyes, as he witnessed the timid expression in his daughter's innocent face. On seeing this, the little girl hurried over to her father with open arms.

"Oh, Daddy," pouted the child, as tears filled her own eyes whilst hugging her father. "Don't be sad. It's alright. I won't tell the boys that you've been drinking. I know they don't like it, but I think you drink because your sad. Sammy says you drink because your heart hurts. Is that why you drink, Daddy?"

Tears streamed down John's cheeks, as his daughter's words and earnest expression broke his heart. He knew this degree of naivety wouldn't last forever. John picked his daughter up, and settled her into his lap.

"Baby, you don't need to know why, not just now. You're too little to understand," sniffed John, as he wiped his eyes with the back of his left hand. "You'll learn one day, when you're older. Just not now."

He scooped his daughter into his arms, as he then carefully carried her back upstairs. After settling Chrissie back into bed, John left the bedroom and found some degree of peace in the bathroom. There, he broke down completely. He wanted his normal life back. He wanted Mary.

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**A/N: Hey guys, another short update on weeChris, hopefully the new few chapters will be the start of a new storyarc. Feel free to brain storm ideas/requests; more fluff? more angst? more drama? Hope you liked this short chapter, and sorry again for the wait and length of this chapter, but like I stated, a new story arc is on the horizon. Currently got exams at the moment.**

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	47. The Innocence of Childhood

Chrissie was in a princess mood, and had donned an old second-hand flower girl dress, that masqueraded as a princess gown. Even though the five year old was a boisterous mini tomboy in the making, Chrissie occasionally showed her more feminine side, that was regarded more normal for a little girl. The tiny girl twirled around in the living room, pretending that her teddy bear was waltzing with her. She was singing to herself, the song _'Once Upon A Dream'_ from the Disney movie, _Sleeping Beauty_, whilst dancing with her teddy bear.

"Dean, c'mere, look at Chrissie," said Sam, as he watched from the doorway of Bobby's study, with a large smile on his face. Dean soon joined him, who then also began to smile. "It's like she lives on her own little planet."

The brothers continued to watch their little sister. It was true, it was like Chrissie had her own personal planet that she could escape to, leaving all her troubles behind. The brothers longed for that kind of innocence once again, as it had been cruelly snatched away from them on the night of the fire, that claimed the life of their mother five years previous.

Yet, the brothers were unaware that Chrissie was aware of their presence, and was simply milking her adorable performance. Chrissie gasped, before throwing her hands to her face in an overdramatic Shakespearian manner. She then pointed at Sam.

"Oh, my prince has found me, Goober," said the little girl. "He has come to take me away to his castle."

Dean was becoming red in the face, with trying to contain his laughter, as Sam was dragged into the living room by the tiny five year old.

"You'll never get a prom date if that's how you dance, Sammy," remarked Dean, with a large grin on his face. "Just make sure you don't step on Chrissie with your lumberjack feet."

Chrissie giggled, as she danced with her brother, with the smile on her face almost tickling her ears. Both brothers' hearts swelled with adoration for the youngest. Her naivety almost cast a veil over their dark lives.

"Oh, my!" gasped Chrissie. "Oh, how lucky am I! Another prince, Goober!"

Now, it was Sam's turn to begin smirking, as Dean was near enough shoved into the living room by Chrissie. Yet, like Chrissie, Dean played up to his audience. The little girl laughed and squealed in delight, as Dean twirled her around.

That evening, the siblings were feasted on a fried chicken take out. Chrissie was gnawing on a fried chicken leg, to which Sam rolled his eyes, due to the fact that Dean was eating in the very same manner.

"It's like looking in a mirror sometimes," he muttered, whilst chewing, to which Dean and Chrissie looked up at him, in unison. "Chrissie, don't watch Dean eat, you'll pick up his bad habits."

Chrissie gazed up at both brothers, her cheeks stuffed like a hamster, and mouth smeared with ranch dressing. Dean also had an identical expression.

Dean waggled his eyebrows, in an overconfident manner, to which Chrissie copied. This action made Dean splutter, which caused half digested chicken and ranch dressing to spray all over the kitchen table.

"Christ!" exclaimed Sam. "Where you trying to aim for my face with that, Dean?"

Dean wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, before resuming eating his fried chicken. He dipped it in white gloopy ranch dressing.

"Sammy, it would take more than chicken and ranch dressing to improve your face" replied the seventeen year old.

Chrissie gently tapped him on the arm, her mouth still covered in ranch dressing.

"Don't be silly, Sammy is pretty" remarked the little girl, as she then nodded at the middle sibling.

Sam nodded back, before sticking his tongue out at his brother.

"Oh, Samuel," gasped Dean, with mocked offence. "That hurt me, right in the feels."

Sam sighed, as he wiped his mouth with a now greasy napkin. He cleared his throat, before throwing the napkin at Dean. The eldest sibling couldn't ignore the smiles on both Sam and Chrissie's faces.

That night, Chrissie was snuggled up in her bed, and was almost fast asleep. The brothers were at her bedside. Dean stroked her soft mane of brown waves, his eyes glimmering with devotion. He then planted a kiss on the child's forehead.

"G'night, sweetheart" he whispered, before leaving the bedroom.

Sam kept vigil of his sister, and was unprepared by what his sister would say.

"You'll find your princess one day, Sammy," muttered the half asleep little girl. "She will be very pretty. You'll meet her at school, the kind you wanna go to when your bigger. She will have the same birthday as Dean, so we could have a double party for both birthdays. She will have long yellow hair, like Mommy."

Sam smiled softly, bemused by his sleepy sister's words. Chrissie was such a strange little thing. Yet, Sam didn't know what the future would hold for him, or how correct Chrissie would turn out to be. To him, this was just fantasy, but would later discover it to be a tragic reality.


	48. All Creatures Great And Small PART ONE

**A:N/ This three part story arc, is heavily based on the Hayao Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli film: My Neighbour Totoro. If you've never seen this film, check it out, even if you're not into anime, it's a lovely wee film.**

A hunting trip was organised by John and Bobby, yet under the false knowledge of a vacation, in order to protect the youngest. Plus, John was ready to uproot his children and finally move on. The children had been living with Bobby for a couple of months now, and Chrissie was only a few short weeks of starting Kindergarten.

Bobby and the Winchesters had ventured to Black Hills National Forest, not too far away from Rapid City, South Dakota. The forest was over one point twenty-five million acres, and spanned all the way from south-western South Dakota, to north-eastern Wyoming. The forest was predominately ponderosa pine, alongside aspen, bur oak and birch. Elk, Bald Eagles and Black Bears were a common sight for many visitors to the area.

The Winchesters and Bobby settled down in an old cabin in the late evening. The cabin had once belonged to a former contact of Bobby's, whom was unfortunately savaged by a witch's coven the previous year. Whilst the men established the overall plan for the trip, the siblings ventured upstairs to explore the cabin.

"This place is falling apart" sniffed a disgruntled Sam, whom was annoyed at his father in forcing the trip onto him.

The thirteen year old tugged at the dusty checked curtains, that lined the weather worn windows. It was no surprise to him that the curtain detached itself from the window, to which he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Well, Bobby's old buddy wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed," remarked Dean, as he held a sleeping Chrissie in his arms. "C'mon, I gotta put her to bed. She was way too cranky in the car, as well you know. Your arguing with Dad, made her cry again."

Sam marched into the bedroom, that the siblings were to share for the duration of the trip. The young boy then sat down on his bed, and thumped his bag-pack onto the floor.

"He just makes me so angry these days" mumbled the boy, as he watched his older brother putting their baby sister to bed.

Dean sighed, and after making sure Chrissie was comfortable, started getting ready for bed himself, knowing that tomorrow was going to be a long day away from the cabin. Sam continued to glare at his hands, which were now curled into fists.

The following morning, just before nine o'clock, Bobby and John were preparing the weapons needed, outside and away from Chrissie's view. Sam was cleaning Chrissie's face from traces of oatmeal, whilst she clutched onto her teddy bear, Goober.

"Why can't I come into the forest with you guys?" asked the little girl, with a cute pout on her face. "I promise I won't get in the way, and I won't wander away."

Now it was Dean's turn to kneel down at Chrissie's level, as the child was close to tears.

"You'll have to stay here for a little while, Chrissie," said Dean, in a gentle tone. "You'll be bored, all that walking around the forest, and I know you don't like it when Daddy gets annoyed if you complain."

Tears drip down Chrissie's cheeks.

"Aww, don't cry sweetheart," said the seventeen year old, as he mops his sister's tear stained cheeks. "We won't be gone long, I promise."

Nevertheless, Chrissie was prepared for her super secret mission. Curiosity was certainly a major part of the little girl's character, and it was obvious that she was very keen to be involved with the trip into the forest. Whilst the males left the cabin, believing the five year old to be safe inside, Chrissie followed them into the woods, leaving her teddy bear tucked up in bed, as she stated that Goober had a hangover.

The little girl wondered why they were carrying hunting rifles, and came to the conclusion that they were hunting big angry bears. Chrissie was so small, that she could easily scurry in between all the nooks and crannies of the woodland, in order to avoid being detected by her family. The last thing she wanted, was to be yelled at or even worse, smacked. The sun glimmered in the sky, and glinted onto the dark green leaves of the various types of trees.

Chrissie was eventually overwhelmed by the sheer scale and beauty of the forest, that she stop following her family, leaving her all alone in the forest. However, she hadn't realised the situation at this moment in time, as she was distracted by something very odd.

The creature was about the same size as a rabbit, although it walked upright, and had long floppy ears. It's eyes were tiny, and it had dark blue fur, with white stripes on it's torso. The bizarre creature hopped along the woodland undergrowth, unaware of the little girl that was following it's every bounce. A large grin had spread across Chrissie's face, to which it almost tickled her ears.

"I'm gonna call you, Flopsy," stated the little girl, in a hushed whisper, as she followed the creature further into the woods. "Your so pretty Flopsy. I never seen a rabbit like you before, Flopsy. Are you a rabbit, Flopsy?"

The creature turned it's head, and it picked up the pace of movement, when it noticed Chrissie. The little girl giggled, as she chased the creature through the undergrowth. Flopsy, dashed into a collection of bushes at the base of a large tree. Chrissie pulled part of the bushes away with her tiny hands, and gasped when she noticed a large earth tunnel, burrowing into the tree.

Nervous, Chrissie gazed around, as the situation caught up to her. Yet, before she could burst into tears on the realisation that she was lost, Flopsy appeared again. This time, Flopsy was accompanied by another creature. This creature was smaller than Flopsy, and was snowy white in the colour, and looked like a puff of cotton, with tiny bat like ears.

"Oh, Flopsy, you gotta friend" sniffed the child, as she attempted to be brave, as she was told that crying doesn't show bravery. "You gonna have a tea party with Puffy? I wanna see where your going."

The child travelled down the tunnel, and almost knocked off the oversized baseball cap that she was wearing, of her head. Suddenly, the little girl stumbled down the tunnel, as it began to slop downwards. The fall was cushioned, as Chrissie landed on something very soft. It felt like she was cuddling Goober, yet this felt different. The five year old gasped in awe at what lay before her; large sleeping creature, about the double the size of a sumo wrestler, and looked like a rabbit crossed with a cat. It's limbs were short and stumpy, with earth coloured fur. Like Flopsy, the ears were floppy and long. In Chrissie's child like opinion, it was like laying on an extra soft marshmallow.

Chrissie poked and prodded at the creature, and would squeal in delight at whenever the thing grumbled or moved. The five year old lay on the creature's stomach, and was soon staring into it's large round eyes. The creature blinked at the little girl.

"Ooooh," squealed the five year old. "Hello! What's you're name?"

**A:N/ So, what should the true name of the creatures be? What should Chrissie dub the largest one? Are they real or not? Ideas and requests are welcomed :)**

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	49. All Creatures Great And Small PART TWO

The large creature continued to gaze into the little girl's eyes, before letting out a big yawn. Chrissie shuffled forward on the creature's soft stomach, with an ear tickling grin. The creature's huge pink tongue appeared, as it licked its lips. It paused for a moment, before dragging its tongue over a highly amused Chrissie, who squealed in delight. Chrissie's heavy brown bangs were now sticking upright, and she caught her baseball cap, before it stumbled off her head. The creature continued to stare at the five year old, who was now laying on her front, as she returned the awe struck gaze. The little girl stroked the creature's earth coloured fur. The creature let out a series of low grumbles, as if he was speaking. Chrissie grinned, as if she could understand the creature.

"Well, if you don't have a name, then I'm gonna give you one," stated the little girl, as she continued to pet the giant creature. "Snoozle, because you're sleeping during the day time. Do you come out at bed time? Sammy told me a word that means only coming out at night time, but I've forgotten."

The little girl suddenly gasped, as she looked around frantically, her eyes becoming wide with worry and fright.

"Oh no!" she exclaimed, as she slowly slid off Snoozle's stomach. "I was supposed to be following my brothers, Daddy and Uncle Bobby, but I was silly and wandered away. Now I'm lost, and I'm stuck down here, forever."

The little girl burst into tears, and plonked herself onto her bottom, as she brought her fists to her streaming green eyes. Startled, and concerned about his new tiny friend, Snoozle slowly sat up, and shuffled over to the crying child. The gentle creature grumbles mournfully, as he then scooped Chrissie up onto his chest. The lost child clutched onto Snoozle's carpet like fur, when suddenly, the pair rocketed up into the air, before disappearing in a shimmering light. How Snoozle achieved this action was unknown, since it lived inside a large tree.

Before long, Chrissie was back inside the dusty old cabin, having materialized into the bedroom she was sharing with her older brothers. Baffled, the child scratched her head, wondering on what had just happened. She then gasped.

"Snoozle brought me back!" she exclaimed, as a grin spread across her face. "Snoozle is like a giant magic thingy."

The rest of the day saw Chrissie colouring numerous pictures of her and Snoozle, alongside Flopsy and Puffy, with her pens and pencils.

At around six thirty in the late evening, the males finally returned to the cabin. All were slightly startled, at the various strange pen drawings left around the cabin. John picked up one of the drawings, and smirked in adoration.

"Chrissie's been busy today," he said, as he could hear his daughter singing from the bedroom upstairs. He turned to Sam. "See, I told you she'd be fine. I thought you said she was upset when we left this morning."

The brothers gazed at each other, as they were surprised by their sister's sudden change in mood. Normally, if a stunt like this was pulled, then Chrissie would refuse to talk to anybody for the rest of the day, as she hated being left alone in strange places.

Dean quickly ventured upstairs, and wandered into the shared sibling bedroom. Chrissie was singing away, as she drew on a piece of paper, her tiny hands covered in ink. Pencil shavings littered the wooden floor. The little girl grinned up at her brother.

"Oh, Chrissie!" chided Dean, as he grumbled at the mess caused by his sister. "Look at the state of your hands. You better hope the ink washes off. And what have I told you about the pencil sharpener? Only a grown up can sharpen pencils. I don't want you to hurt yourself. I thought you knew better than that!"

The little girl's smile disappeared, and was replaced by her trademark wobbling pout. She threw the pens down, and shoved the picture away, making it tear slightly at the top. Dean instantly felt guilty about his reaction, as Chrissie burrowed under her bed sheets. The guilt increased, as Dean could hear his baby sister sniffling. As feisty as she was, Chrissie was very sensitive at heart. Sam then appeared, having stored the weapons away. He observed the scene, and sighed heavily.

"Lemme guess, you shouted at her about the pens and pencil sharpener, again" he remarked.

Dean felt like smacking his head against the wall, for making his little sister cry. He watched as Sam ventured over, and gently encouraged Chrissie to come out of her protective cocoon. The thirteen year old picked up the slightly ripped picture, as he cuddled Chrissie with one arm. He raised an eyebrow at the strange picture of what appeared to be Chrissie with an giant rabbit that crossed bred with a cat along the way.

"I want Snoozle to come back," sniffled the five year old. "I hate it here in this smelly old place."

Both brothers frowned.

"Who is Snoozle?" asked a curious Dean, as he joined his siblings on the bed.

Chrissie sniffed, as she then clambered onto her eldest brother's lap. Dean stroked her hair, still feeling mean about making her cry in the first place.

"He's a friend" answered the little girl.

The brothers exchanged a knowing look of adoration, which translated to: _'How sweet, Chrissie's got another imaginary friend. What goes on in that quirky little mind of hers?" _

Chrissie simply stared into thin air, as she cuddled into her eldest brother. The child wondered if she would ever see Snoozle again. It was a sad truth that the child had no friends in reality, compared to her imagination, which was full of characters; from Cassie to Lolly. It would only be years later, as she was a stubborn teenager, that Chrissie would question on whether or not Snoozle and the gang were actually real, or just sad figments of a lonely childhood.

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	50. Going to DisneyLand

Sam stared out of Bobby's kitchen window, his brow fixed into a frown. Chrissie was outside with Bobby, helping him fix an old pick-up truck. Bobby had even given the little girl some overalls to wear, even though they were far too big for the five year old, the aging hunter found it a very amusing sight. Sam watched as Bobby placed his baseball cap on Chrissie's head, which made the pair laugh.

Sitting at the kitchen table, and reading newspaper whilst sipping some strong black coffee, was John. He gazed up briefly at his younger son, just as Dean entered the kitchen. The atmosphere in the room could be cut with a knife. The older teenager sighed heavily as he shifted his eyes between the two. John and Sam had been up all right arguing.

"When are we leaving?" asked Dean, as he sat down next to his father.

Sam's shoulders became tense. He didn't want to leave Bobby's, as he had grown used to the familiar environment, and it would once again disrupt his school work. Also, he didn't want to be the one to break it to Chrissie that they were leaving her cherished Uncle Bobby's house, after several months.

"This afternoon," grunted John, his eyes tracing the newspaper obituaries. "Make sure you guys are all packed up and ready to go by one o'clock. We're needed in Texas, and I'm not hangin' around here anymore. I know when I'm not welcome. Sam, go get your sister, and get her ready. No arguments, I had enough of that crap last night."

At that moment, Sam slammed his hands on the table, almost knocking over John's coffee mug. The thirteen year old was furious.

"_You_ go, Dad!" he hissed, his clenched hands trembling. "I don't want to be responsible for making a five year old little girl cry! Honestly, you always do this to us! Uprooting our family again, just to chase around monsters!"

John threw down his paper, and quickly shot up onto his feet. The hunter towered over his younger son. At the same time, Dean became animated, and forced himself between the pair.

"We save lives!" shouted John. "We're leaving today! I'm not going through this again with you! End of story! People need us, Sam, and I'm still surprised that you don't really grasp that idea! Now, do as I say, and get your sister, this instant!"

Sam surged forward, as if to add more to further the argument, only for Dean to gently push him back.

"Dude, just get Chrissie," said Dean. "I don't want her to see you guys fighting again, you know how it affects her."

Sam was appalled. Dean was the reason why they were living at Bobby's in the first place, after Chrissie's first paranormal encounter and juvenile ghost sickness. The thirteen year old assumed that Dean would be fighting to stay, but it appeared that Dean had once again fallen into line, all thanks to John.

Upset, Sam shoved Dean, before storming outside. Chrissie raced over towards her brother, with a large smile on her face, nearly tripping over her oversized overalls.

"Sammy, look at me! Don't I look silly," grinned the little girl. "Bobby gave me his hat, saying that it's good luck. It smells funny."

Her smile soon vanished in a flash, as Sam scooped her up in his arms. Bobby followed as the two siblings ventured back indoors.

"Sammy?" asked the little girl, as Sam stomped upstairs with her. "Why are you angry? Have I been naughty? What's wrong?"

She could hear raised voices drifting from the kitchen, which made her pout.

"Oh no," she whimpered. "Everybody is mad. I don't like it when everybody is mad. I have done something wrong."

At that moment, the little girl began to cry. Sam gently consoled her, as he finally made it to his sister's bedroom. He continued to comfort her, as he helped her out of the overalls. Chrissie hiccupped and sniffled, as she then slipped into an old pair of shorts and Elmo t-shirt.

"Nobody is mad at you, Chrissie," uttered Sam, as he then brushed her fluffy hair. "Dad is just in one of his moods again. You know how he is."

Chrissie became even more confused, when Sam began to pack up her things. She cuddled Goober tightly for comfort, as Sam placed all her clothes into a bag.

"Where are we going?" asked the five year old, innocently. "Somewhere nice? Are we going to Disneyland?"

Sam paused, and shook his head. He gazed at his baby sister sadly, before perching her onto his knee, like a little bird.

"Chrissie, I know you like it here at Uncle Bobby's…" he began slowly.

"I love it here at Uncle Bobby's," interrupted the child. "I have my own room and everything."

Sam couldn't look at his sister, as the expression on her face was killing him inside.

"Chrissie, we have to leave Uncle Bobby's," said Sam. "Daddy has to go back to work, and he doesn't want to leave us, so we have to go with him, just like before. Remember, there was a motel with a swing set once. You liked that."

There was no point in Sam trying to put a smile on the child's face, as she was once again in tears. He could only cuddle her.

"I like it here," wailed the five year old. "I don't wanna leave."

Even when the Impala was all ready to go, Chrissie remained stubborn. She fought against her father, as she was wrestled out of Bobby's arms.

"Just go with your Daddy, darlin'," said Bobby. "You can call me anytime if you want. I'll always be here, and you can always come and visit."

For Chrissie, that still wasn't good enough/

"Uncle Bobby!" howled the little girl, her heart breaking. "No! No! I don't wanna go! I don't wanna go!"

In true fashion, she continued to kick up a storm as she was fastened into her car seat. Tears poured down her cheeks, as her whole face flushed tomato red. Soon, the Impala left Bobby's house. Chrissie could only shriek in despair, whilst holding onto her teddy bear.

**A:N/ So, it's back on the road for the Winchesters once again. More coming up soon :)**

**Stay tuned!**

**Please review!**


	51. A Summer Day in Texas

"Chrissie, come out from under the car," begged Sam, as he peered underneath the 1986 Hyundai Excel ."Please, come out from under there. You could get hurt if you stay under there, like if the man in the next room needs to use his car."

The stubborn little girl refused to move from her position, curled into a tight ball under the front bonnet of the Hyundai. She had been in a bad mood ever since they left South Dakota. Sam, whilst on volunteered baby-sitting duty, was trying desperately to make light of the situation, and to possibly bring a smile to Chrissie's face. He was trying to teach her how to play basketball, for the motel had a small dusty basketball court, near the bug littered swimming pool. However, when his back was turned, the five year old had vanished. On searching the entire motel complex, Sam eventually found her, hiding underneath the Hyundai, belonging to the alcoholic in the room next to them.

Sam sighed heavily, as he slumped onto the ground, with his back up against the front tyres, on the passenger side of the car. The sandy gravel was scorching to the touch, but Chrissie didn't care as she rubbed it between her tiny pale fingers.

"Look, I know you're upset, Chrissie," said Sam, his thick floppy hair becoming sticky with sweat. "I didn't want to leave Uncle Bobby's either, but we had no choice. Dad says he calls the shots around here. There would be no point arguing, since our opinions clearly don't matter."

The little girl sniffed, an adorable frown was an obvious statement to what mood she was in.

"I don't like it here, Sammy. Daddy was mean to me. He stopped the car and shouted at me, because I was crying," she said, with a pout. "I couldn't help it."

Sam rubbed his hand across his dripping forehead, before running his fingers through his hair. He could still hear his little sister's squeals and cries from their unpleasant car journey, and even more so, his father's furious yells.

The thirteen year old hated the road trip as much as his sister, only he would get his ass kicked if he threw a tantrum. Nevertheless, his father's attitude appalled him. Dean also tried to comfort the distraught little girl, yet as the journey progressed further, his patience began to wear thin, to the point when he raised his voice too, which only made matters worse. And ever since their arrival in Texas, Chrissie refused to speak to her father and eldest brother.

It hurt Dean to see Chrissie this way, but there was nothing more than he could do. He wanted to please his father this time around, and to not be on the receiving end of his wrath again. The seventeen year old didn't want his younger siblings to witness that again, and decided to appease his father's wishes in order to protect them. Besides, John had promised his eldest much more involvement in hunting, now that they were back on the road again. John would always state it was for the greater good.

"Daddy loves you, remember that," said Sam. "He might have a funny way of showing it, but he loves you very much, Chrissie. He wants to protect you, since you're the baby."

The little girl was offended at that statement.

"I'm not a baby," she said, indignantly. "I'm five, when I used be four."

Sam chuckled slightly, as he rolled his eyes. He then began to play with the laces of his battered sneakers.

"I hate it here too," he stated. "I don't wanna start a new school again, when summer vacation is over. Dean won't care, since he hates school and barely attends. Hey, you'll be starting kindergarten very soon. We need to get you ready for it. You'll like kindergarten."

Chrissie huffed, stating the opposite of Sam's words.

"Nuhuh," said the five year old. "I just wanna go back to Uncle Bobby's. I miss my bedroom, and so does Goober."

The little girl began to wail once again, to which she finally crawled out from under the Hyundai. Sam scooped her up, and cuddled her tightly. Suddenly, a beer can landed at Sam's foot, narrowly missing Chrissie's head. It was their neighbour.

"Hey! Get the hell away from my car, you little shits!" roared the alcoholic, lobbing another beer can at the siblings. "I'll wring both your scrawny necks if you go near my car again!"

Agitated, Sam hurried up towards their room, only for the man to stand in their doorway. The drunk glared at the crying child.

"Shut the fuck up!" he screamed in Chrissie's face, which frightened her. "I'm sick of hearing you cry all the damn time! You think you've got problems, well wait till you get to my age, kid!"

Sam shoved the drunk away, trying to protect his little sister. He then quickly rushed inside, and drew the curtains and locked the door. The motel manageress was then heard outside, having seen the situation unfold from her office. Before long, the drunk had been forced to leave under police escort, after it came to light that he was peddling drugs from his room, alongside the drunk and disorderly behaviour.

Sam hated places like this. He didn't feel safe, not just from the creatures that were lurking in the shadows, but from regular people. If he wasn't safe, then neither was Chrissie. As he cuddled his crying little sister he knew one thing. He hated this life. He needed to get out.

* * *

**Hmmm, I sense trouble brewing. Perhaps it might lead to a major event in Sam's life, that he regards as a happy memory. Shame, its the opposite for Dean.**

**Guess what's coming up very soon...**

**Stay tuned!**

**Please review!**


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